Proof of Life
by Emily Waters
Summary: Seven years after the Second Wizarding War, Severus Snape is found alive. Not many believe his innocence. Disoriented and damaged, after seven years of torture at the hands of Death Eaters, Severus finds refuge in Harry Potter's home.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Proof of Life

**Author**: Emily Waters

**Betas**: Rettavex, whitehound

**Brittpicker:** whitehound

**Pairing**: Severus Snape/Harry Potter

**Rating**: M

**Summary**: Seven years after the Second Wizarding War, Severus Snape is found... alive.

**Warnings**: Abuse, Torture, Slavery, Character Death (not Snape or Harry)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything HP related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.

**Characters**: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Marietta Edgecombe, Amos Diggory, Neville Longbottom, Hanna Abbott

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**Prologue**

He knew he was dying. He was practically drowning in his own blood, as it continued to gush out of the gruesome neck wound, running onto the floor in rivulets.

His vision was fading, but he could still make out the shimmering strands of his own memories hovering in the air. Everything he was, everything he ever held important or significant, was being placed into Potter's hands. For a brief second, Severus Snape wondered if those memories would be lost, dissipated in the dark of the night; if all of this was for naught...

And then, relief flooded him, as he saw that the memories were being caught, retrieved from the air, and collected carefully. The ever-vigilant, all-knowing Granger had conjured a flask and handed it to Potter. Severus could have awarded ten thousand points to Gryffindor, if he were in any condition to do so.

His memories were being collected. They would be viewed. Potter would know what to do. The war would end. The Dark Lord would be defeated.

Above him, Harry was clutching the vial, the memories. Granger and Weasley were already heading out of the Shrieking Shack. Yet, Potter lingered. What was that look on Harry's face? Was it pity? Was it scorn? Nagini's bite notwithstanding, as far as Potter knew Severus Snape was still the enemy. Or had Potter made the correct guess?

It was ridiculous and irrational that Severus would care so much what the young Gryffindor thought of him, but he did.

A part of him still screamed in denial, but the part of him that had noticed death hovering nearby forced the moment of truth. Now, as it was all about to end, nobody's opinion mattered more. The offspring of his nemesis, the son of his only childhood friend, Potter was the bane of his existence and his only reason to exist.

No... who was he fooling? Potter was not just his reason to live; like it or not, this young person _was_ his entire life.

Severus looked upwards, his vision growing dimmer every second. What would he see in Potter's eyes? Revulsion? Relief at an enemy's death? Gloating at his imminent demise?

"Look at me!" Severus begged with his last breath.

The luminous green eyes were glaring in the dark, shining like quasars against the darkness of the void. Severus searched those glowing bottomless eyes and found no contempt, no pity, no gloating, and no fear. The only thing showing in that gaze was acceptance. That was it. That was what Severus needed to see.

Potter _knew._

Severus would have tried to say something else, but his lips were refusing to move. He was about to slip into oblivion when he saw Harry's wand pointed at him. What was that all about?

He wondered if Potter was about to finish him off. Had Severus, ever skilled at reading people's body language and expressions, misjudged him?

"_In Sanguine Tuo Vive,_" Potter said softly.

_In Thy Blood, Live. _

Severus wanted to scream in despair, and had he still been able to he would have. He recognized the spell, of course. How could he not? It was one of his own. Ah, Merlin on a crutch! Out of all the possible spells in the world, what were the odds that Potter would think of casting_ that one_ on him?

"Harry, please, it's too late for him," Hermione whispered from somewhere. "We've got to go...''

Severus could only watch helplessly as Harry stood over him, those green eyes holding his gaze for what seemed like an eternity.

"Coming," Harry answered finally, and then, cast Severus one final glance. "I'll be back for you," Harry said.

Severus knew otherwise. Harry was not coming back for him. Once those memories were viewed, Harry would be on his way to face death at the hands of the Dark Lord.

Severus shut his eyes and simply listened to the sound of retreating footsteps. Watching Harry leave was more than he could bear.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Heir to the Prince

**Heir to the Prince **

_Whatever can go wrong, will. _

That old Muggle maxim never seemed more fitting than it was applied to the events of the final battle, Harry thought ruefully.

A ridiculous number of Death Eaters had managed to make their escape and worm their way back into the wizarding world's underground.

Shortly after they thought they had won and were safe, the school had been stormed. The Headmaster's office was demolished. Dumbledore's portrait had burned down and a number of artifacts were destroyed. To Harry's dread, the Pensieve with Snape's memories was among the artifacts that had been lost. Wiithout it he had no way of clearing Snape's name.

Speaking of Snape...

"Maybe he survived," Harry said yet again, pacing back and forth across the Gryffindor common room. "I just can't believe he's gone. "

Hermione just hugged her knees, curled into herself on the couch and sniffled miserably.

"I don't think so, mate," Ron said with the ruthless honestly that Harry had come to appreciate over the years. "Losing that much blood would have killed an elephant."

Hermione issued a quiet, plaintive whimper.

"Then where is his body? Huh?" Harry demanded. " Tell me, Ron! We've been looking for two weeks! If he's dead, where's his corpse?"

"Maybe the Death Eaters took it with them," Ron said reasonably. "Thinking he's one of their own. Decided to give him a decent burial."

"Oh right, that's your theory? Decent Death Eaters? And where's his bloody Pensieve! I can't even prove anything to the Ministry without it! How could I have been so stupid to just… leave it there?"

"Harry, you couldn't have known," Ron said patiently. "You were about to die, as far as you knew. You ... had other things on your mind. Like making sure Nagini got killed, and... er... dying."

That wasn't much of an excuse in Harry's mind and he kicked himself mentally once again. It would have taken just a few minutes to hide the Pensieve in the Room of Requirement. Why didn't he think of that?

"You should open your post," Hermione said suddenly.

"Huh?" Harry spun around to look at her. "That's kind of an odd, random thing to say."

"I just thought," Hermione murmured, "if he did survive, maybe he'd send you a note of some sort. Not an open letter, but a ... secret message that only you'd recognize."

Harry could have slapped his own forehead. Why didn't he think of this sooner? He proceeded to tear through his post furiously, looking quickly at the contents: a letter from Mrs. Weasley, a card from Fleur Delacour, a few formal school bulletins, and an official-looking letter, bearing the Gringotts seal. Harry broke the seal hastily and stared at the contents of it, his eyes opening wide in shock as he read:

_**Title Deed, to benefit Harry James Potter, by way of Severus Tobias Snape.**_

_As of the night of May 3, 1998, at 00:48 A.M., to Harry James Potter, the following belongings have been transferred: _

_One end-of-terrace house__, at 27 Spinner's End, and all the contents thereof,_

_Contents of vault 723 at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, in the amount of 1294 Galleons, 4 Sickles, and 11 Knuts,_

_Contents of unmarked vault 58 B at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, in the amount of 800 Galleons, _

_Personal effects of Severus Tobias Snape as can be retrieved from his dwelling in Slytherin Dungeons at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

"I don't get it," Harry said finally. "Does it say what I think it says?"

Hermione snatched the letter from him and read it over quickly.

"It appears that as of May second you own everything that ever belonged to Severus Snape," Hermione said sadly.

"Why?" Harry whispered. It didn't make any sense at all. "How is that possible?"

"The only thing I can think of is that he had magically established you as an heir before he passed away," Hermione murmured. "That would account for the automatic transference of property to your name."

Harry bowed his head, suddenly horrified that he might start bawling in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. The man Harry had despised and scorned for years had given all that he had ever owned to him.

Harry shook his head, feeling a stinging in his eyes. He blinked furiously to be rid of it and said tightly,

"So he is really dead."

Ron's face contorted slightly and he pressed his arm to his eyes. He then stood up abruptly and left, clearly embarrassed by the display of emotion. Hermione sobbed quietly, hugging a cushion with both arms. Harry continued to pace. He had failed the one man who had done more than any other to help the war effort. Without the Pensieve he had no way of ensuring that the fallen hero would receive the recognition and honor he never lived to see.

Her sobbing had quieted and Hermione was watching him numbly. "Harry, you are making me dizzy," she said finally.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Harry whispered. "Would you come with me?"

"Where?" she asked.

"To his place. Spinner's End," Harry said. "Please... I don't think I could on my own."

"Of course I will, Harry," she said softly. "Floo?"

"Yeah."

They tossed a handful of Floo powder into the hearth and said, "27 Spinner's End". They emerged later in a dark, tiny room that looked more like a padded cell than the sitting room of a house. They stared around together, noticing the tiny kitchenette, the minimalistic furniture, and the books crammed into the bookcases lining the walls.

"There's a hidden door there," Harry pointed absently. "I remember... from the Pensieve..."

Hermione nodded, following him. The door opened to reveal a staircase that led upstairs. Harry went first, with Hermione walking behind him. Upstairs was just as lackluster as the downstairs. There was another tiny room, set up as a laboratory. Hermione scanned the shelves, her eyes coming to rest on a small jar with something sealed inside. She lifted it off the shelf and held it on the palm of her hand tenderly, as if it were a fledgling bird.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Boomslang skin," she said. "Remember how I stole his boomslang skin for the Polyjuice?"

Harry chuckled unhappily. "How could I forget?"

Her hands clasped around the tiny jar. "Do you think he'd mind if I took it?" she asked timidly. "I want something to remember him by."

"I think he'd like that," Harry whispered, before he walked out of the laboratory, Hermione still on his heels. The other room, a bedroom, was slightly larger. The bed was large, and as Harry sat on it he realized that it was surprisingly un-uncomfortable A few changes of clothing hung on an open clothes rack that stood next to the bed. Harry bowed his head and stared at the bedspread. It was a deep navy blue color, un-patterned and faded, but free of stains or rips. He stretched out on the bed and inhaled deeply.

For some reason he had aways imagined the potion master's place would smell repulsive, but the smell of the bedroom was surprisingly soothing. It smelled like aged wood and some kind of herbs.

"Smells like thyme," Hermione murmured, stretching herself out on the bed next to him.

"Mmmhmm." He kept his eyes tightly shut, as his fingers dug into the pillow.

"You are crying," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"It's not your fault, you know," she murmured. "You had no idea... none of us did."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was," he said tightly. "He's dead."

The moment those words fell off his lips, a sinking, nauseating feeling permeated his gut.

_Dead_. There was so much horrifying finality in that word.

"I'm sorry," Hermione offered hesitantly.

"Me too," Harry whispered. He curled into himself, hugging the pillow. For the longest time, he wept quietly, while Hermione lay next to him, simply waiting, and petting his hair, as if he was a small kitten, separated from its mother.

Eventually he was out of tears. The emptiness of the loss had settled inside, draining him of all willpower.

"It's getting late," Hermione said quietly. "Are you going to sleep here?"

"Yes," Harry said unapologetically.

"I'll stay with you then," Hermione said softly. "I don't want you to stay here alone."

Harry sniffled again. "What would Ron think if he knew we were in bed together?"

"Given that we are in Snape's bed I don't think he'd be awfully worried," Hermione said reasonably, kicking off her shoes and climbing under the covers. Harry kicked off his shoes as well, but lay on top of the blanket, burying his face in Snape's pillow. The smell of thyme and aged wood surrounded him and cradled him, almost as if an embrace of intangible arms.

"Harry," Hermione asked sleepily, "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything you want," Harry said.

"His injury was pretty bad," Hermione said. "I mean... there's no way anyone could have survived that."

"I know," Harry agreed. "What's your question though?"

"Well," she mused, "Did you see or hear anything ... that I don't know about? Something that made you think he might have survived?"

Harry lifted his head from the pillow and stared at her. The brightest witch of her age lay on her back, the covers to her chin. Her eyes were tightly shut.

"Harry?" she prodded him. "What led you to believe that he might have survived?"

He sighed tiredly. There was no point mentioning the spell, was there? It obviously hadn't worked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "It was nothing."

She did not press. Harry dimmed the lights and allowed himself to fall asleep, his back turned to his best friend, his mind swimming in the smell of aged wood, old parchments, and thyme.

**To Be Continued...**

_Author's Note: Many thanks to __**whitehound**__ for brittpicking and canon-proofing this chapater. :)_

_Please review... more coming soon. _


	3. Seven Years Later

**Seven Years Later**

There was blood in his dreams again. For a few months he had begun to hope that the nightmares would cease, but of course, they hadn't. Once again, he dreamed of Snape, drowning in his own blood, whispering his name. Once again, Harry woke up with a silent scream that never left his lips.

Next to him Ginny stirred, frowning in her sleep. He got up cautiously, careful not to disturb her. Still, her eyelids fluttered and she looked at him speculatively.

"Harry," she murmured.

"Morning, love," he said. "I hoped not to wake you."

"I'm not awake," she mumbled, hugging the pillow. "But I should be. My team is leaving for Amsterdam this afternoon. And I need to drop Lily off at daycare."

"Then you'd better get your cute little arse in gear," Harry teased.

She rubbed her eyes and gave him a pleading look. "Harry... is there some way you could come and see us play?"

Harry bowed his head. This was an important game for Ginny's Quidditch team, but even so, he had absolutely no desire to go. His own interest in Quidditch had dissipated completely at this point, and he could barely look at Ginny's Quidditch trophies without suppressing a yawn.

Then again, it's not like he felt excited about anything these days. _Other than watching Lily_, Harry corrected himself instantly.

"I've got to be available to work this weekend," Harry said in a neutral voice. "It's not a good idea to take time off now."

"Oh? How so?"

"You know, the usual. There's a lot of pressure. After the terrorist attack last month..."

"Oh yes," she sighed. "Well, how's that attack different from the one three months ago, or from the one half a year ago?"

Ginny was up and getting dressed. Harry stared at her firm, sculpted, powerful body and her long red hair, and smiled wistfully. For all intents and purposes they now inhabited two different worlds. Ginny's mind was immersed in family matters, their daughter's wellbeing, and her career, and she was doing her best to pull Harry into that blissfully simple world as well. Most days Harry felt like he was still at war, and whenever he allowed himself the luxury to start believing otherwise something happened on his job to quickly dissuade him of that dangerous illusion.

Voldemort was defeated. But as far as the good news went, that was it. Post-war organized crime flourished, taking the form of underground slave trading, contraband, and the manufacture and dissemination of illegal Dark Objects. It was hardly surprising given how many former Death Eaters had managed to escape and take over the underbelly of the Wizarding world. They were now doing what they had always done best: dismantling and undermining the fragile peace and order the rest of the Wizarding world were trying to create.

Every few months or so there was a terrorist attack and the public screamed in outrage, demanding that the Minister of Magic and the Auror Office take better measures to ensure public security. Most days Harry felt at his wits' end, because for every attack they managed to intercept and avert, there would be another one that would succeed. He found that people expected a great deal from him, just as he found himself unable to live up to their expectations.

Harry lifted his eyes to realize that Ginny was looking at him with something like irritation.

"I told you accepting the promotion to head the Auror Office was a mistake," she said disapprovingly. "You were much happier when you were just like Ron, out there in the thick of things, rather than dealing with the politics of it all."

Harry chuckled quietly to conceal his embarrassment. He hated the fact that he was promoted to the chief's position while Ron was still just a field team leader. From his perspective it was unfair. But Ron, as far as Harry could tell, did not begrudge him his promotion, even though he had every right to. They were family now. Harry was married to Ron's sister. Ron was married to Harry's other best friend. Their lives were so entwined that it would be impossible to be resentful of each other for any significant length of time without going insane.

When he did not answer her, Ginny sighed and began to brush her hair angrily, the strokes of the brush the only sound punctuating the silence that hung between them.

"You'll pick up Lily from daycare?" Ginny asked finally.

Harry nodded mutely.

"Harry," Ginny said dangerously, "please tell me that I will not return from Amsterdam after the playoffs to find out that our daughter has been babysat by my parents the entire time yet again, because you supposedly had to work nights or something."

"You won't," Harry promised. "I'll pick her up. I'll be a good daddy."

There was probably a touch of bitterness in his voice because Ginny was now staring at him with concern.

"Harry," she said cautiously.

"Mm?" he murmured.

"Do you love me?" she asked in an oddly vulnerable voice that he wasn't used to hearing from her.

"You know that I do, Ginny," he said reassuringly. "I always will."

She was searching his face for something else, perhaps evidence of former passion, or a sign that there was something more than a familial affection established by having a child in together and rote memory. He gave her a friendly smile, which she returned hesitantly.

"Go win that cup," Harry urged her.

"We always do," Ginny said a little smugly. "I just wish you were there to see it."

"I'll be there next time," Harry said.

"That's what you said last time, and the time before," Ginny observed, but without accusation.

"Yeah, but this time I really mean it," Harry protested. "Honestly, Ginny. Next game, I'll be there, in the front row. With flowers and shit."

She grinned. "Unless there's another terrorist attack, right?"

"Right," Harry said, heading to the shower.

He stood in the shower for a long time with his eyes shut, allowing the streams of water to erase the memories of the nightmare and wash away the cold sweat that had dried on his skin .

It's been seven years, he thought, and still, he had no closure, no relief, no peace when he thought back to that date. He had attempted to clear Snape's name, but after two years of futile efforts only a small handful of his old schoolmates and his former teachers believed him. To the Ministry of Magic Harry became a laughingstock where the name of Severus Snape was concerned, and finally, Harry simply gave up trying.

_It's time to let go_, Ginny had told him. But even if Harry was ready to let go of Snape the nightmares had a mind of their own. Seven years since Severus Snape had died and still, night after night, Harry continued to dream about the man drowning in a pool of his own blood.

At least he had learned not to scream in his sleep, Harry thought wryly. Perhaps that alone qualified as an improvement.

**o-o-o-o-o**

As soon as Harry made it to the Auror office he found himself blessing the stars that he did not ditch work to go with Ginny to Amsterdam. They had received a lead on a Death Eater compound, located in an Unplottable location in Devon.

Harry smiled appreciatively as he reviewed the information. Having a clerk at _Borgin and Burkes _working undercover for them turned out to be more profitable than thousands of strategically placed surveillance spells. It was amazing how much a simple shop-girl could overhear when she cared to make herself unobtrusive and nearly invisible.

Given the importance of this particular mission Harry made a quick decision to lead the team himself. At least this way if something went pear-shaped there would be no question of who was to blame.

"Harry, you look like shit," Ron said, his stern voice tugging Harry out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Harry was slightly taken aback. "I do not!"

"You've got circles under your eyes. You and Ginny fighting again?"

"We aren't fighting," Harry assured him.

"Nightmares then?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded mutely.

"Maybe you should stay in the office, take it easy," Ron offered, but without much hope in his voice. "You really do look like the dead."

Harry snorted under his breath.

"I'm fine. Now, stop complaining and tell me how are we going to dismantle the wards once we get to the compound."

Ron grinned. "Thought you'd never ask. The first thing..."

The wards of the Death Eater compound yielded easily to the combined effort of the best Aurors in Great Britain, and soon enough Harry and the rest of the team were inside. The struggle was furious, but quick; caught unawares and outnumbered three to one, the Death Eaters and their underlings stood no chance at all. The compound was secure in less than half an hour, and Harry watched intently while the Aurors secured unconscious and semi-conscious Death Eaters, preparing them for transport to Azkaban. The rest of the team dispersed in pairs to search the compound and dismantle any booby-traps. Harry issued a sigh of relief. All in all this went well. Amos Diggory would be hard-pressed to find any fault with their performance this time.

"Mr. Potter," he heard a voice of a young female Auror, Rose Zeller, next to him. "It's horrible!"

"What is?" he asked automatically.

"There are some cells here," Zeller explained, her lip trembling a little. "I've never seen anything like it... there are.. prisoners... we've sent for help to St. Mungo's..."

Harry gritted his teeth defiantly. It wasn't often that they'd discover prisoners held by rogue Death Eaters, but it wasn't unheard of.

"All right," he said softly, but from the look on her face he saw that she was struggling with something else. "What is it, Zeller?"

One of the prisoners cried out your name; but it's odd, you see, he's one of them, he's got the Dark Mark, do you know anyone ..."

His heart sank in his chest.

"Where?" Harry asked hoarsely.

Zeller pointed.

Harry ran.

He reached the cell that Zeller had pointed out, burst through the door, and saw a bloodied human form, covered by a flimsy, tattered robe. A field medic, who was part of the Auror team, was crouched on the floor next to the victim, casting one healing spell after another.

"It can't be," Harry whispered, kneeling in front of the person lying on the floor at his feet.

It's been seven years, he thought. It couldn't possibly be...

And yet, who else could it be? Harry recognized him, as he continued to stare transfixed at the pale, emaciated body and the long black hair, tangled and matted as if from years of neglect.

Against all odds the mangled person stirred on the floor, turning his head towards Harry's voice. Dark sunken eyes fixed on Harry.

"Snape," Harry whispered, extending his hand towards the man he had thought dead for the last seven years.

Snape stared at him intently for a few seconds and then reciprocated the gesture, stretching his own hand forth. In horror, Harry saw that the man's bloodied hand had been nearly fully stripped of skin, the raw flesh and muscle visible in gruesome detail.

Harry stared at the healer pleadingly, but she ignored him, too busy scanning for internal damage and continuing to cast healing spells in rapid succession.

Snape, however, appeared to be unaware of the extent of his own injuries. His eyes continued to study Harry's face in absolute silence, and then the brutalized, degloved, and barely human hand reached for Harry's wrist and clenched around it in an iron grip.

**To Be Continued...**


	4. First Night

**First Night **

Upon his arrival at St. Mungo's, Harry barely had the presence of mind to firecall Molly and ask her to pick up Lily from daycare. Molly was wonderful as always. She assured him it was no bother at all, more than that, it was her pleasure, and she even assured him she'd tell Ginny it was her idea, and that Harry would be in no trouble whatsoever. Harry didn't believe that last part for a moment, but he was grateful for Molly's effort regardless. Over the past six years she had done her very best to preserve her daughter's marriage and mediate the conflicts between the two of them.

The next twelve hours of Harry's life were spent with him oscillating between heaven and hell.

_Severus Snape was alive! Not dead. Not an anonymous body in some unmarked grave. Alive. Truly alive. _That blissful thought shimmered in the forefront of Harry's awareness until another, grim realization would rise to the surface and overshadow it.

Presumed dead by everyone, Severus Snape had been imprisoned, and from the looks of it, subjected to the worst tortures and mistreatments imaginable. Harry was no mediwizard and knew no more of health than the basic emergency aid training his Auror job required, but he could not even begin imagine the type of psychological damage someone would be suffering after seven years of ... that.

Just as Harry would be ready to sink into the depths of despair, a tiny voice of hope would chime in again: _Severus Snape was alive!_

When Harry thought he could handle no more of the bipolar fluctuations of his inner voice, a healer emerged from the ward, and looked at Harry with a weary smile.

"He's out of danger and stable. He is in a secure ward, number 15," she said. "You can see him now, if you like. My shift is over and I am going home. My coworker, Mari, is in charge for the night. She will help you as needed."

Harry muttered a quick word of thanks and hurried inside the medical ward.

Inside a large, brightly lit room, there was a lonely hospital bed with a simple metal frame. Harry stopped in the doorway hesitantly, not daring to make a single move and wake the person in front of him. Snape's chest was rising and falling evenly. He appeared to be in a deep sleep, either induced by healing spells or by potions. Harry advanced slowly and cautiously, biting his lip to prevent himself from bawling like a kid at the sight in front of him.

Snape was... emaciated. There was no other word to describe it. He had never had any extra flesh on him, but now he was just skin and bones. The hair on Snape's head was now cut incredibly short. Harry guessed that it was a matter of expediency: either the mediwizards needed to get a clear view of the head injuries in order to heal them, or maybe the hair simply had gotten too matted and tangled over the years.

Harry's eyes fell on the side of the bed, where, to his shock, he saw that Snape's hands, now showing slightly tender-looking pinkish skin, were restrained to the metal frame of the bed. The restraints were magically reinforced, warded against transfiguration or breaking spells, and could only be removed by a person with sufficiently high clearance.

Severus Snape was bound like a criminal.

Harry was about to poke his head out of the ward and call for a healer when he heard the voices behind the door.

"This is neither necessary nor appropriate," a well-known, strict female voice stated. Harry proceeded to search his brain for her name. _Mari _simply was not ringing any bells. "There is absolutely no need to restrain him."

"Your confidence is heartwarming," a male voice answered. "But our orders come from the Minister of Magic himself. The Death Eater stays restrained."

"The Death Eater? How do you work that one out?" the voice countered reasonably, if a little venomously. "Why would they be torturing him if he was one of their own?"

"Don't know, don't care," the Auror (Harry assumed) argued. "Besides, they aren't like us. They are worse than animals. They don't need reasons to do what they do."

Harry shuddered slightly. He himself might have said something along those lines seven years ago, but to hear those words now, after the war was over, felt incredibly disturbing.

"And how am I supposed to treat him?" the female demanded. Harry still could not recall who she was. The voice was driving him insane. It was so damnably familiar, but he could not match it to a face or a name. "I can't even release him in case of medical emergency!"

"You'll have to work with what you've got," the unsympathetic Auror answered. "However, if you are saying it's impossible for you to treat him here, I'll be happy to transport him to Azkaban and he can receive the remainder of the medical attention there."

The female voice muttered an obscenity and then the door of the ward swung open. The mediwitch strode into the room and finally Harry knew who the voice belonged to. _Mari _was no other than Marietta Edgecombe.

She scowled at him when she saw him.

"Harry Potter," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Spending your career chasing down traitors? Tell me, are you and your Gryffindor cronies going to hex 'Sneak' in purple letters onto his forehead as well?"

He scowled right back at her, but unwilling to get into a shouting match and wake Snape, simply said quietly, "He's not a traitor."

Her expression softened only marginally, and she was still glaring at Harry with open suspicion.

"Can you tell me what's wrong with him?" Harry asked.

"None of your business," she snapped. "Medical records are confidential and you aren't next of kin. And don't even try to look at his chart, or cast any spells on him, the privacy wards won't let you."

"Marietta..." he started saying, but she cut him off.

"He's my patient," she said bluntly. "Whatever political games you and your friends are planning to play can wait until he's awake and lucid."

"I'm on his side," Harry protested. "Let me help."

She scoffed at the suggestion. "You want to help, Harry? My suggestion is that you talk to your pals in the Ministry of Magic and remove this!" she pointed to the restraints accusingly.

"I will," Harry promised. "I'll firecall Diggory first thing tomorrow morning."

She pursed her lips into a severe line. "I'll believe it when I see it. Now, if you please..."

"I'm not leaving him," Harry said stubbornly. She glared at him with distaste and Harry added hastily, "Look, ask the field medic if you want. For some reason he responded to me when we found him. He reached for me. I think I should be around when he wakes up. I am not here to arrest him or interrogate him. I just want to help. I promise. All right?"

Still openly suspicious she nonetheless nodded mutely, finished her scans, and left the room without saying a single word.

Once she was gone Harry pulled up a chair to the bed and dropped himself into it. Snape was still sound asleep, and Harry stared at his weary, exhausted face, wondering what thoughts or memories were running through the older wizard's sleeping mind. Harry's eyes fell on the scroll attached to the foot of the hospital bed. Medical chart, Harry realized, and on an impulse reached for it. He knew that the security spells would likely deny him access, but he reasoned that it never hurt to try.

To his surprise the scroll opened to him at once, granting him full access to Snape's medical records. For all her protests Marietta must have removed the privacy wards before leaving, Harry thought, and smiled slightly.

His small smile faded at once when he scanned through the record, feeling more and more nauseous with every line. There was extensive scarring, internal and external. There was damage to his optic nerves and it was uncertain how much his vision would be affected. There were broken bones that had been set and healed. There was also evidence of numerous sexual assaults. Harry's hands shook slightly as he set the scroll back in its place and tried to banish the disturbing imagery out of his mind.

For a long time Harry simply sat and watched, listening to Snape's measured, even breathing. Eventually, Harry's own eyelids grew heavy. Unwilling to leave, he transfigured the chair into another bed and stretched himself out on it. On an impulse he reached for Snape's hand, still restrained to the bed frame, and took it in his. To Harry's shock, even in his sleep, Snape's fingers twitched and locked with his.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry was woken up by the sound of Snape crying out.

He bolted to sit up instantly. Snape was still half asleep and appeared to be completely disoriented. He was struggling against his restraints with surprising strength, threatening to break his own wrists. His entire body was convulsing violently with every attempt to free himself, and with every unsuccessful attempt he appeared to become more and more panicked.

Without dwelling too much on the fact that he was breaking about a dozen or so regulations, Harry pointed his wand at the restraints and removed them. Snape sat up abruptly and his eyes opened wide, appearing more enormous than ever on his sunken, weary face.

"It's all right," Harry assured him.

Snape stared at him in disbelief.

"Where am I?" Snape asked in a shockingly normal voice.

"St. Mungo's," Harry said, struggling to keep his own voice as normal as possible. "You've sustained some serious injuries. There was a screw-up with the Ministry, too, but we'll clear it up."

Snape gave no response, only bowed his head. Violent tremors were rocking his body and he was shaking his head slightly as if to express denial of what was happening to him. Questioning the wisdom of his actions, Harry crawled to sit on the bed next to him and then reached out to draw Snape into an embrace. The rational part of him suggested that he should just let Snape be for now, but every human instinct in his body screamed to offer some kind of reassurance or comfort.

To his surprise Snape made no protest when Harry took a hold of his shoulders. On the contrary, he melted into Harry's embrace as if he had been waiting for it his entire life. Harry held him tightly and rocked his body, as if Snape was a small child. Snape continued to cling to him in a dreamlike, dazed state, without saying a single word. Slowly his trembling subsided and he buried his face in Harry's shoulder, making no sound at all.

Harry himself was nearly shaking at the realization that the formerly proud, self-sufficient man was clinging to him for dear life. It was Snape's easy, effortless acceptance that had Harry unnerved more than anything else. He should have been flinching from every human touch, Harry thought... but for some reason, Snape wasn't. On the contrary, the man was soaking in Harry's embrace with his entire body.

Lifting a trembling hand, Harry stroked Snape's impossibly short hair and ran his palm along his back.

"Are you tired?" Harry asked, wincing at how horrifyingly idiotic the question sounded under the circumstances.

It must have been the wrong thing to say, as Snape tensed slightly in his arms. "What are your plans for me?" he asked guardedly.

"The immediate plan is to get you better," Harry told him.

A long pause followed, after which Snape voiced a hesitant confession, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"It's all right," Harry said quietly. He wanted to tell Snape that he was safe here and that nobody was going to hurt him, but... Snape's legal situation was still uncertain, and Harry hated making promises if he wasn't certain he could back them up. "I think you should rest now," Harry said softly. "Do you think you could go back to sleep?"

"If you like," Snape said uncertainly.

"I think it'd be a good idea," Harry said softly, releasing the man from his arms. "Why don't you give it a try, hm? We'll deal with other problems in the morning."

**To Be Continued... **


	5. Homemade Spells

**Homemade Spells**

Once Snape was asleep again, Harry remained awake for a while longer before he too drifted off, only to be shaken awake a short while later by the Auror whom Harry had heard arguing with Edgecombe earlier.

"Mr. Potter," the Auror said, "you have a firecall coming in."

"I do?" Harry mumbled, getting up. He was drained beyond what words could express, and for the life of him, he could not understand who would be calling him at St. Mungo's.

"You do," the Auror confirmed. "It's someone from the Department of Protection of Magical Creatures."

Harry blinked and reached for his glasses resting on the edge of the bed. "At bloody three in the morning?"

The Auror shrugged apologetically and led the way to the guest lounge, where in the flames of the Floo hovered the face of Hermione Weasley.

"Hi," Harry said.

The Auror stepped out of the lounge to give him some privacy.

"Harry!" she whispered furiously. "How's Snape?"

"How did you know...," Harry started asking and then smiled. "Ron told you?"

"Yes. How's he doing?"

"He's stable, but... he's been hurt."

"Can I come over?"

"Yes, please," Harry muttered, and a moment later Hermione emerged from the Floo.

She threw herself at him and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she said softly. "You didn't go back to the office today, did you?"

"No," Harry said. "I probably should have, but I just stayed here. I didn't want to leave him alone."

"Probably good that you didn't leave him alone, The Ministry of Magic are like vultures. I think if you hadn't been around they might have just... made him disappear, you know?" Hermione spoke in a rushed and slightly disorganized manner, as was her habit when she was too tired and too nervous. "I don't really have any evidence of that, just a gut feeling. Ron went back to the office and it was really horrible. Their minds are made up already about him being guilty. So Ron firecalled me and I ditched work, and then Ron and I went to see Percy, to ask him for help, and Percy was bragging to Diggory about the Death Eater being captured, and all ready for Azkaban... and I think Percy kind of forgot we were there... until Ron coughed and said, excuse me, but I think Harry believes Snape's innocent, and then there was this horrible awkward silence, like Ron had farted or something. Then Diggory laughed, Harry, he laughed, like it was all some big joke..." Hermione said in a rush, before sniffling miserably and burying her face in Harry's shoulder.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered tiredly. "Hermione, I have no idea what to do now."

"Nor do I," she admitted. "Tell me, what happened to him?"

"Not a word to anyone though, all right?"

"I promise," she said quickly.

"I mean it, Hermione," he said sternly. "Not Ron, not your mum, not Luna, and not Mrs Weasley, all right?"

"All right, all right, I promise!" Hermione snapped. "What is it?"

"He was tortured, probably the entire time he was missing," Harry said quietly. "And... some other stuff, too."

"He was raped!" Hermione's whisper came out more like a muted scream.

"Shhhh," Harry hissed at her. "No need to shout about it for all of London to hear."

"Sorry," she promptly apologized, "has he woken yet?"

"Briefly," Harry said. "He recognized me, called my name, and ... he's been.. reaching out to me. Holding on to me."

Hermione stared at him wide-eyed. "Really? That's rather odd. I mean… you two have never been on good terms, no offense, and he doesn't seem like someone who would... look for physical reassurances... and, to be honest, if... well, from the sound of it, he should be shying away from all human contact. Remember when I had that PTSD half a year after the war was over? I didn't let even Ron touch me for three months." Harry nodded mutely. He remembered of course. "You know, this is all very strange," Hermione continued. "What I want to know is how he survived Nagini's bite in the first place. The loss of blood... I mean, Harry, you remember!"

"I remember," Harry agreed tiredly. He loved his friend deeply, but Hermione's disorganized, nervous talking was beginning to wear him out even more. "Maybe it was the spell, after all," he murmured, more to himself than to Hermione.

She grabbed his hand. "What spell?" she asked very calmly, but her fingers were digging into his flesh rather sharply.

"Oh... Well, just before we left him, I'd cast a spell on him," Harry explained.

"What kind of spell?"

"_In Sanguine Tuo Vive_," Harry said.

"Never heard of it," Hermione said. "What does it do?"

Harry sighed in embarrassment. "That's the problem. I don't exactly know."

"You don't exactly know," she repeated. "Where did you learn it?"

"You are going to love this," Harry muttered. "Half-Blood Prince's book."

If looks could kill Hermione's would have flatlined him.

"Let me get this straight," she said icily, "you've cast yet another spell you knew nothing about from that damned book?"

"I did," Harry admitted. "Come on, Hermione, give me a break! I was seventeen. I didn't know any powerful healing spells. Snape was bleeding out in front of me. I still wasn't sure one hundred percent that, you know, he was one of us. I was in a bit of a hurry too, with Voldemort demanding my death and all. The spell... well, I didn't know what it meant, but from the sound of it, I thought it could save someone from bleeding to death. It did say, '_in your blood, live_', didn't it? So I cast the damned spell. I honestly didn't think we had much to lose, all right?"

Her expression softened a little and she nodded to him. "All right, Harry," she said, "I suppose you have a point, and from the looks of it the spell worked. Now, where's the book?"

"Back at Spinner's End. It's in his bedroom, on the bedside table."

"All right," Hermione murmured. "I'm going to go and read through it, and then, I'm going to analyze that spell to see if I can figure it out. Maybe it'll help with his recovery."

"All right," Harry said agreeably. "Don't spend too much time on that spell though. We still need to figure out how to keep him out of Azkaban and clear his name."

"We'll work on that first thing tomorrow," Hermione said firmly. "Maybe McGonagall will help... "

"Maybe," Harry agreed tiredly.

After seeing Hermione off, he walked back to the ward and stretched himself out on the bed next to Snape. Snape was sleeping, appearing to be completely unaware of what was going on. Harry found himself drifting off to sleep when he felt Snape's hand reaching out for his. He held on to it, even as the oblivion claimed him. Throughout the night he was vaguely aware of Marietta coming in, checking on Snape, and quickly tossing a blanket over him and sliding a hospital pillow under his head. Half asleep, Harry smiled wearily, but had neither the strength nor the presence of mind to thank her.

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

Hermione woke him three hours later by ungently poking him in his side, and whispering angrily, "Come with me, right now." Harry got up and followed her, even as his stomach clenched in anticipation of bad news.

"All right, what is it?" Harry asked once they made it into the guest lounge and sat down

"Well, good news and bad news," she said, sitting down next to him. "The spell you cast on him was designed to have a double effect."

"Go on," Harry said cautiously, bracing himself for the bad news, which he was sure would come first.

"The spell, I think, was designed to be used against an enemy in wartime," Hermione said and paused significantly.

Harry bit his lip, but continued to listen without interrupting.

"As you had guessed correctly, it was indeed designed to save someone from death through blood loss, however at the cost of enslaving them."

"Huh?" Harry stared at her, trying to figure out if she was pulling his leg, but the look on her face was as far from flippant as it could be. "There are spells for _that_?"

"Not many, but yes, there are. This was one of them. You see," she said softly, "it was actually designed as a follow-up to the _Sectumsempra_ spell...and finally, it all makes sense to me. See, I could never figure out why someone like Snape would invent something like _Sectumsempra_. It's not like he didn't know enough deadly spells already, so why would he invent another one, something that would cause the enemy's death, but not instantly? Just so he could stand over the dying enemy for a few minutes and gloat? Didn't seem very practical, you know?"

Maybe it wasn't especially _practical_, but Harry wouldn't put it past Snape to do something of the sort. However, met with Hermine's accusing gaze, Harry decided that now wasn't the most opportune time to say that.

"As I understand it, the _Sectumsempra_ spell was designed to injure the enemy gravely and force his surrender. Then, the other spell, In Sanguine Tuo Vive, could save the enemy's life, at the cost of establishing a slave-bond, provided that the enemy submitted himself willingly to the victor."

"You are kidding me," Harry muttered, and she glared at him briefly. "You aren't kidding. Hermione! How did you figure it out?"

"Well, it was just a hunch at first, as the entire section of the book where those spells were found all had to do with poisons and antidotes... so it made sense to me that the two spells would act in a similar manner, of sorts. Then, I did the brief review of magical linguistics and analyzed the..."

"Never mind," Harry interrupted. "I believe you. Actually, this explains a lot."

"Yes, it does," she said tiredly. "Like why he's reaching out to you, like you are the most important person in the world to him. And ... well, why all his property was magically transferred to you at that time. He never named you as an heir, Harry. This was just an effect of the enslavement spell."

"His medical chart, too," Harry added, as an afterthought. "It opened to me, like I was entitled to see it. Marietta had a fit."

"Marietta Edgecombe is the attending healer?" Hermione shuddered. "I'd better clear out of here, before she comes in and sees me."

"Never mind her now," Harry snapped. "So, how serious is this? I mean, since slavery doesn't exist anymore, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

Hermione gave no answer. She didn't look away, but didn't quite meet Harry's eyes either.

"Hermione!" Harry snapped. "This just can't be! Here? Now?"

Hermione's lips twitched into a sad smile. "Harry, remember, we aren't in London anymore, and haven't been in a while."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked defensively, not liking where this conversation was headed.

"What I mean, Harry, is that we live in a different world, and this location just happens to intersect with Muggle London."

"And your point is?"

"My point is that we live in a world where people still use quills and parchments, where criminals can be punished by being reduced to soulless shells, where many sentient creatures are being exploited and treated as commodities, where a fourteen year old boy can be compelled to compete in a contest that requires him to evade dragons, and so on. Maybe it's time you realized that," Hermione said patiently.

She made sense, Harry had to admit. Even fourteen years after entering the Wizarding World, he still managed to be surprised by discovering something that seemed inhumane and medieval.

"Now she tells me," Harry joked half-heartedly.

Hermione did not smile this time. "I've been telling you for years," she said softly. "But you were too busy laughing about SPEW to pay any attention."

Harry fell silent for a few minutes, trying to ignore the not-too-subtle note of accusation in her voice.

"So... he's enslaved like a house elf?" Harry clarified, his thoughts returning to Snape's predicament.

"Not quite," Hermione said reluctantly. "House-elves have some rights these days, and they do have some personal power in their dealings with wizards. Snape's situation is quite different. The spell modified his legal status to a far greater extent. He is property, more like an owl, or a cat, I think, as far as legalities are concerned." Hermione delivered the statement with palpable distaste.

"All right," Harry said, resolving not to panic. "How do we reverse the spell?"

"I don't know, but at this point, I don't think we should," Hermione said softly.

"Are you mad?" Harry nearly shouted. "I want that bloody slave-bond dissolved before Snape wakes up, realizes what I've done to him, and kills me on the spot!"

"He won't," Hermione said reasonably. "First of all, I think he already knows what you've done. He was conscious wasn't he, when you had cast the spell on him?"

"Yes," Harry said miserably.

"Second, I don't think the slave-bond will allow him to cause you any harm," Hermione said.

For some reason, that made Harry feel even worse.

"Fuck," he whispered tiredly. "I really screwed up this time."

"I wouldn't say that," Hermione mused. "This is actually not such a bad thing at this point."

"I am obviously missing something," Harry said dryly, finding himself at his wits' end. "Please tell me how this isn't such a bad thing, especially on top of everything else that's going on with Snape?"

"He can't be placed on trial anymore," Hermione explained. "Trials are for humans. Property can't be tried or accused of a crime. It can only be taken away from the owner and destroyed, if it becomes dangerous, or constitutes a threat to public safety. Since he hasn't done anything illegal while being in your charge, the Ministry can't take him away from you. Count yourself lucky," Hermione added, "at least now we have some time to work on clearing his name, and once that is done, we can restore his freedom."

"Oh," Harry muttered, not certain if he should be horrified or relieved.

Hermione continued softly, "Anyway, Harry, right now we need to obtain a certified copy of his record in the Vital Statistics Registry, which had been modified by the spell, and it'll reveal his altered legal status in relation to you. I can get that done in about four or five hours. Then, he'll be ready to go home with you." Her last words startled him, and she looked at him with concern, noticing his hesitation. "Harry, you will take him home, won't you?"

Harry glared at her, stunned that she would even ask. Did she really imagine he would let the man go to Azkaban after all he'd been through? "Of course I'll take him home, what do you think?"

"Well, that's good," said Hermione. "Harry, it'll be fine. It will all work out eventually."

Harry issued a deep breath and allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. Hermione was right, he thought, at least the imminent crisis was averted for the time being. Snape was not going to Azkaban. Or so Harry dared to hope. If there was one thing Harry remembered about Snape all too well it was the man's pride. For all Harry knew Snape might curse him to hell when he woke and demand to be sent to Azkaban instead of publicly admitting the slave-bond to Harry Potter.

"What about ... later?" Harry asked. "Once we've found a way to clear his name, can I set him free?"

"Yes," Hermione said confidently. "You can restore his legal freedom at any time. The emotional and magical aspects of the bond will require developing a counter-spell," she said reluctantly. "And we still don't know what they are," she added. "I suspect only Snape knows the details."

Harry nodded, deep in thought. He felt almost relieved at the news, disconcerting as they were. At least he could protect Snape, for now.

"I still don't get it," he mused. "The spell shouldn't have worked on him."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"The spell was for enemies, wasn't it?" Harry asked. "He wasn't."

"Back then, you still considered him an enemy, didn't you?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, I did," Harry confessed. "I imagined he had had a change of heart at the last moment, but I had no idea..."

"Well, then," Hermione murmured. "I suppose that was sufficient."

"Still, it shouldn't have worked," Harry continued to argue. "You said... the eh, victim, should have surrendered, er, or submitted, in order for the spell to work. This is Snape we are talking about. It'd be a cold day in hell before he surrendered to me."

Hermione's face grew slightly more tired and sad. "If you say so, Harry."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"Harry, think of his state of mind back at the Shrieking Shack! At the moment you cast the spell on him, he was giving you his most private memories. He took everything he was and put it in your hands."

Harry winced as if he'd been slapped with the stinging hex.

"And I've repaid him by casting an enslavement spell on him, and abandoning him afterwards."


	6. Discharge Procedures

**Discharge Procedures**

_  
"I think his enthusiasm for service is fading," someone's voice said. Severus did not know the person by name, and in the semi-dark of the room he could barely make out the faces of his owners._

"Why do you say that?"

"What do you think? I could get better with a whore in Knockturn Alley..."

"Is that so? Well, this won't do."

Severus tensed slightly when someone's hands grabbed him and dragged him across the room.

A hand struck him across the face. "How many times have I told you? Tensing is a form of resistance."

He knew that, of course, but the instinctive reaction still emerged at times, even after years of torment. He was getting better at that though, he was certain of it. He forced his body to become loose and pliant. He made no sound when they restrained him to the chair.

The man towered over him and struck him again. "Why do you think we let you keep your hands in the first place? Do you even realize how lucky you are? "

He bowed his head. They were right of course. _**They**__ were always right._

Another blow. "Answer me! Why do you think we let you keep your hands?"

Some old and barely familiar emotion welled up inside, and then, probably due to a random misfiring of neurons, rather than a conscious attempt at sarcasm, Severus said absently,

"Perhaps you wanted me to brew you a beauty potion?"

He regretted the words the moment they fell off his tongue. Why did he say that? He always said something to make things worse for himself, and the triumphant smile on his captor's face only confirmed it.

"Forgive me," Severus begged quickly, but of course, it was too late.

"Shut it," his owner ordered. "You are right, you know. He's become too comfortable. Break his fingers."

"Too easy," the first voice said. "I've got something else in mind..."

Only a minute later he found himself screaming, and, in his dazed, disoriented state, he could not understand why, or what was being done to him. When he finally managed to crane his neck and glance at the site of blazing agony, he finally understood – skin was being lifted off and stripped from his right hand, exposing bare flesh to the air. 

** o-o-o-o-o-o**

Severus woke up to the sight of Harry Potter's face looming over him. He blinked in disbelief, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light of the room.

Memory was returning slowly, in little bursts, and he sorted through the fragmented recollections, trying to distinguish reality from fantasy. He remembered Harry Potter crouching next to him on the dungeon floor, reaching out to him. He remembered mirroring the gesture exactly, and then, grasping his owner's hand like a lifeline. _That had been real_, he decided finally.

He could also recall drifting in and out of consciousness, only to become aware of his pain receding, and his injuries being tended to. The healing, in itself, was not unusual. His captors had healed him every three or four days, only to ensure he remained alive, to endure more. Pain relief was the only thing that was different this time. He recalled Harry's voice, advising him that he was in St. Mungo's. So that had been real, too.

He also had a vague memory of sitting up in the middle of the night and being held up in the young wizard's embrace, but that clearly had been a delusion.

Harry Potter's voice jolted him back to reality.

"Hello," Harry said.

"Hello, Master," Severus responded.

Just from watching Harry Potter's face Severus could tell instantly that the returned greeting somehow fell short of his owner's expectations. He bowed his head and waited for correction.

"Not Master," the young wizard said quietly. "Just Harry."

"Harry," Severus repeated mildly. _Harry_, he repeated to himself. Harry. This would take some time to get used to, but he really did not want to make a mistake and screw this up. He was quite certain that the pain-free bliss would not last forever, but there was no sense in rushing the inevitable misfortunes either.

"I take it you know what happened?" Harry asked him. His voice sounded strained. "Back in the Shrieking Shack, I had cast the spell on you, that..." Harry's voice trailed off, and he looked at him as if hoping Severus would complete the statement.

Severus nodded. "I know, Harry. I remember."

Harry's expression grew a little more miserable.

"I'm sorry," Harry said nervously.

Severus winced slightly as Harry's nervousness began to affect him as well. Why was the young wizard apologizing? Severus was his property and Harry Potter was free to do with him as he pleased. Whatever he wanted to do, nobody would be able to question him or condemn him. So what the hell did Harry Potter mean to do to him, that required apologies? He hoped his face did not betray too much emotion, when he asked, "What do you intend to do with me?"

"Well," Harry said, taking a deep breath, "Long story short, we have a legal problem on our hands. The Ministry of Magic believes that you are guilty ... and in the last battle, we'd lost all proof of your innocence. Dumbledore's portrait was burned, and the Pensieve with your memories was destroyed as well, or so we think...we… couldn't find it afterwards..."

He should have been more in control of his reaction, but Severus could not suppress a slight shudder at the mention of the Pensieve. The word alone had the power to evoke too many horrifying associations.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"The Pensieve with my memories was captured by the Death Eaters in the last battle," Severus explained. "That's how they learned of my treason. In their minds, I had cost them the war."

Harry's face drained of all color. "I didn't think something like that could happen," Harry said. "I had left it in the Headmaster's Office after viewing it. I didn't even think to hide it... didn't even think that the school could be stormed and it might fall into the wrong hands." Harry cast another anxious glance at Severus.

Severus nodded wordlessly, attempting to still himself. Harry's anxiety was not very comprehensible to him, but it was definitely contagious.

"Well, to cut a long story short," Harry continued, "the Ministry of Magic doesn't believe me now. I am not certain how soon we can clear your name. It might take a little while. Meanwhile, instead of Azkaban, you could come home with me," Harry said uncertainly.

Severus stared at him blankly, trying to gauge the possible reasons for Harry's uncertainty. Harry intercepted his gaze and spoke again.

"I will need to share the information on the slave-bond with the Ministry of Magic so that you could come home with me," Harry explained, and looked at him expectantly.

Severus bowed his head. That much was blindingly obvious, to the point that he wasn't sure why he was being informed of it.

"Of course," Severus said quietly.

Harry smiled a little, but without happiness. "Just like that? No cursing me? No calling me names?"

Severus glanced at him in surprise. Was Harry Potter disappointed that he _wasn't _fighting? Why?

"Do you wish for me to go to Azkaban?" Severus asked guardedly.

"Of course not," Harry protested. "I just didn't think you would agree so quickly."

Severus did not know how to answer that and simply continued to sit in absolute silence.  
"All right," Harry said, clearly ill at ease. "I'll get things started then."

** o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry could have kissed both Ron and Hermione for being there for him that morning.  
Hermione Jean Weasley, née Granger, Harry decided, was a miracle worker, at least where legal matters were concerned. While Ron was standing outside of the ward unobtrusively, keeping guard over Severus Snape, Harry paced outside the guest lounge and listened with gleeful satisfaction to the shouting match between Diggory and née Granger. Or rather, it was Diggory who was shouting through the Floo connection, and Hermione's cool rational voice was responding to every objection with blessedly impartial facts.

Eventually, it was over, and then, it was Marietta Edgecombe's turn to read him the riot act, while Harry listened, taking mental notes.

"Plenty of fluids, all right? Bland foods at first, small portions, try to make sure he eats at least four or five times a day to get used to it. No strenuous physical activities, gentle exercise only, and only if he's willing. Let him get plenty of sleep. Do you have a spare bedroom, or is he going to be sleeping on your couch for the next year? Harry Potter, are you listening to me?"

"Of course I am listening," he assured her. "We've got a spare bedroom. What is his physical condition?"

"Most injuries have been completely healed, however, some scar tissue is still there, as scars caused with aid of Dark Magic are more difficult to remove. The treatments are rather unpleasant, and I am not recommending exposing him to more unpleasant stimuli than absolutely necessary at this point. His lungs, his stomach, and his kidneys had sustained some permanent damage. His eyesight is at about seventy percent of what it used to be. In fact, his teeth are about the only part of him still in amazingly good condition, after all this time. It looks like his captors did not damage that, at least."

"Why didn't they?" Harry asked numbly. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you..."

She gave him a long look. "Have you ever received fellatio from someone who had broken or chipped teeth?" Marietta asked bitterly.

Harry stared at her in disbelief. "You mean… they... he..? No!" he stammered pitifully at the gruesome revelation.

"Articulate and bright as ever, I see," she said tersely. "May god forgive me for releasing a trauma victim into your hands, Harry Potter. No screaming or yelling around him," she continued grimly. "If you and your wife have issues to work out, take them outside, do you understand me? Do not, I repeat, do not expose him to anything upsetting or disturbing. Don't grab him, don't paw him, don't raise your voice at him, don't hound him, and don't harass him. Find out what his boundaries are and honor them like an Unbreakable Vow. I have packed a bundle of books on helping survivors of torture and sexual abuse, you will read them, memorize them, and follow the instructions religiously. I will be checking on him every week. If something goes wrong, you know where to find me."

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

Along with the promised books, Marietta deposited a large paper bag in Harry's hands. He peeked inside, and discovered a change of clothing. The garments were plain, black, clean, fresh-smelling and, Harry discovered, Snape-sized.  
His face was probably frozen into an expression of perpetual confusion, because Marietta shook her head and scolded him again,

"Don't tell me you were planning to parade him through the streets in a hospital gown?"

"Of course not!" Harry protested. "I would have transfigured his gown into something more normal..."

"Right," she nodded. "Bad idea, unless you enjoy having a full-blown panic attack on your hands."

"Huh?"'

"You realize, don't you, that most spells that were cast on him in the last seven years, were not exactly benign? My recommendation is that over the next few months you do not point your wand at him at all unless in case of emergency. In fact, try to avoid waving your wand around him altogether, as much as you can, for the first few months."

"All right," Harry agreed meekly, having to admit that she had a point. "Thank you, Marietta."

"Don't mention it. Now sit down and wait. I am going to run some more tests on him, and there's more paperwork coming your way."

** o-o-o-o-o-o**

"What the hell is _that_?"

"_That_, Mr. Potter, is the hospital bill."

It was already quite late in the evening. The discharge proceedings were taking longer than Harry had anticipated, and the final straw was the atrocious figure on the bill that was now resting in Harry's hands.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Harry snapped. He hated being petty and arguing over paying for Snape's care, but the blasted thing had caught him off-guard, and the simple, stupid truth of it was that he did not have that much money sitting in his Gringotts account. Hermione, who was standing next to him, took the bill out of his hands and surveyed it with a stunned look on her face.

"You are charging him for medical help?" Hermione sounded even more scandalized than Harry felt. "Are you out of your minds? Healthcare is free for everyone!"

"For human beings and magical creatures, it is," the hospital administrator said humorlessly. "However, due to Mr. Snape's legal status..."

"And whose brilliant idea was this?" Hermione demanded. "Don't try to tell me that you somehow conveniently remembered some archaic, obscure law about slavery, and decided to implement it."

"The instructions came directly from the Minister's Office," the Administrator said apologetically. "We received an official memo, reminding us that the hospital funding is not to be used for..."

"Diggory," Hermione spat with loathing. "He is going to make this as difficult as possible, I see."

Marietta Edgecombe was eyeing Harry with clear distaste.

"Harry, I've never thought you to be this greedy," she accused. "With your wealth, this bill shouldn't be much of a problem for you."

"Seven years ago, it wouldn't have been," Harry agreed absently. "Now, however..."

She shook her head with disdain. "You've squandered the entire Potter fortune in seven years?" she asked incredulously.

"I didn't exactly anticipate something like this, all right?" Harry retorted sourly.

Next to him, Hermione took a deep breath. "Look, Harry, Ron and I have some savings, and Arthur does, too. I'll firecall Pomfrey and Hagrid, and I think between all of us..."

"No," Harry cut her off, as the initial shock had worn off and a sudden flash of inspiration graced him. "It's fine. I've got it."

As liberal as he'd been with spending his father's inheritance, he had never brought himself to sell the land of the Black Estate. The land was not of any use to him, but the mere thought of parting with the most tangible reminder of his godfather had been unbearable. Now the decision was reached effortlessly and he breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew that his sentimentality would come in so handy one day?

"I'll sell the Black Estate," Harry told her.

Hermione's lips quivered into a semblance of a smile. "You are going to make Sirius Black pay for Snape's healthcare? Harry! Your godfather will be spinning in his grave."

"He hasn't got a grave," Harry felt the need to point out.

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry entered the ward carrying the paper bag with clothing in his hands. Snape was sitting on the hospital bed hugging his body with his arms. In his paper-thin hospital gown the older wizard looked unbelievably... fragile. The man had always looked larger than life to Harry, or if not larger, then definitely taller. Now... now that Harry was "all grown up", as Molly and Arthur said, he and Snape were almost the same height.

He was startled to realize that Snape's enormous eyes were fixed on him, scrutinizing him intently.  
"It's done. We can go home," Harry said. "Here. Marietta got you some clothes."

He placed the paper bag on the bed next to Snape. Snape stood up instantly and without even waiting for Harry to turn around, stripped off his hospital gown and proceeded to dress himself. There was no hesitation or embarrassment in the man's body language, as if being exposed was completely inconsequential to him.

Harry turned away quickly, but still caught a brief glimpse of the gruesome scars that overlaid the man's back and backside. Harry shut his eyes tightly and choked back an outraged exclamation.  
Perhaps Diggory and others were right, Harry thought absently. Perhaps he really didn't do enough while heading the Auror Office, and perhaps, Harry thought bitterly, he really wasn't the right man for the job. If he had worked harder to locate and dismantle the Death Eater hideouts and compounds, if he had been more competent... maybe Snape would have been found sooner.

He cast a cautious look at Snape. The older wizard was done dressing. His face looked absolutely unreadable, but Harry could tell that there was something like anxiety in his gaze.

"It's going to be all right," Harry assured him. "I won't lie to you, my home isn't the most comfortable place to recover. Ginny and I... well, we fight a lot, and she can be a little spiteful when she's angry... so can I, actually... and my daughter is a handful, too... but we'll do our best to let you have some peace and quiet, and it'll be safe. You'll be safe there. I promise."

The anxiety in Snape's eyes did not recede as far as Harry could tell. If anything, it only intensified. Probably not surprising, given their less than brilliant history, Harry thought tiredly.

"Look, whatever the legal papers say, you aren't my property, all right? Not in my mind," Harry told him firmly.

No answer came, but Harry did not expect one at this point. A moment later Ron and Hermione joined them in the ward, and together, the four of them left St. Mungo's. For the life of him, Harry could not tell whether Hermione and Ron's presence made things better or worse for Snape; the man's face was an impassive mask, betraying no reaction to anything around him.

**To Be Continued... **


	7. Homecoming

**Homecoming**

Once they Apparated to Harry's home at Godric's Hollow, Hermione and Ron took their leave, but not before making Harry promise, over and over again, that he would firecall instantly if he needed any help.

Harry and Snape walked through the door together. The moment they were inside Harry took a deep breath of relief, as a huge weight was finally lifted off his shoulders. Whatever lay ahead, at least Snape was now alive and safe. The rest they would take day by day, and the rest would work itself out eventually.

"What are your instructions?"

Snape's quiet voice brought Harry back to the immediate reality. Snape's eyes were fixed on him again, drilling into him with shocking intensity.

"No instructions," Harry said quickly. "It's not like that... you... you are our guest."

Something seemed to have died in Snape's eyes and the man's face acquired a stony expression again. Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Maybe that's what the Death Eaters had told him upon his capture.

"I don't mean anything bad by it," Harry said, trying to salvage the situation. "You are safe here. You can rest. You must be tired..."

Harry's words might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Snape made no sound at all and simply followed Harry through the living room into the kitchen. Horrible, awkward silence hung between them, and for the life of him Harry had no idea what to say. Snape seemed to be beyond reaching at the moment. Of course he was, Harry thought dejectedly. Less than two days ago the man was being tortured to the point of insanity, or if Snape's current demeanor was anything to go by, that point had been passed already. Now... now the man was in a safe home, of sorts. The shock of transition must have been severe, even if the transition itself had been a positive one.

Common human courtesy, however, required Harry to say something, he was fairly certain of it.

"I'm going to make dinner," Harry said finally. "Why don't you sit down and keep me company, then." Harry pointed to one of the chairs by the kitchen table and Snape sat down promptly.

Unable to shake off the feeling of doing something wrong, and mindful of Marietta's warning to avoid waving his wand in front of Snape, Harry proceeded to cook dinner the tedious Muggle way. He mixed some instant rice with vegetables and canned white chicken in a frying pan. This wasn't going to be a gourmet meal by any means, but truth be told, he had no energy left for anything else. He only hoped it was going to be bland enough.

The entire time he could feel Snape's gaze on the back of his head, evaluating his every move.

"Do you want anything?" Harry tried for conversation again. "Do you want a drink?"

To his surprise Snape actually answered with a reluctant, "I do."

"Great," Harry breathed. "So what do you want? Water? Juice? Ginny has some disgusting energy drinks too, not that I think we should drink those..."

Snape's voice broke slightly with the simple, "I want water."

Harry set a glass of water on the table in front of Snape. For the longest time Snape simply stared at the glass of water, not making a move to touch it. When Snape's fingers finally clasped around it, they did so with such force that the glass shattered in his hand. Harry winced as he saw a trickle of blood mingled with water run down Snape's wrist.

The expression on Snape's face was still absolutely unreadable, and only the horrified look in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"Forgive me," Snape said in a barely audible voice.

"It's all right," Harry said quickly. "Can I see your hand, please?"

A tremor ran through Snape's entire body. "Forgive me," he said again, without moving an inch, only clenching his injured hand tighter around the glass still embedded into it.

"Look, it's fine. You are forgiven. Let me tend to your hand, please."

For a few unsettling moments, Harry shuddered with dread at the prospect that he might have to choose between physically wrestling Snape in order to heal his injuries, or simply letting him bleed. However, even though Snape looked like he was about to face a Muggle execution squad, he complied with Harry's prompting. He waited numbly while Harry pulled out the glass from his hand and cast a healing spell on the injuries.

Just when Harry thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, the smell of burning food informed him otherwise. He spun around, lifted the frying pan off the stove and stared at it unhappily, before turning around to glance at his houseguest. Frozen in his seat, Snape was tense as a hamster in an owlery, and Harry himself was not faring much better. Harry couldn't help but wonder if simply being in the same room with him was making Snape nervous.

"I'll be in here a little while, I think," Harry said ruefully. "Go to the living room and wait, all right?"

Snape left the kitchen instantly without looking back, and Harry turned his attention to the ruined dinner. He poked the food with a spoon, shrugged, and dumped the entire thing into the sink. For a few minutes he just stared at the charred mess tiredly. This was not an auspicious beginning by any means, but Harry summoned the remnants of his optimism and told himself that things could only get better from this point on.

Just as he was about to make another attempt at cooking dinner the sound of the door opening alerted him to Ginny's arrival.

"Harry!" he heard her voice call out to him.

"Hey, love," he said as lightheartedly as he could manage. "You are home early."

"What is going on here?" she demanded. "What is burning? Where is Lily?"

_Oh shit._

"Nothing's going on," Harry assured her. "I just burned dinner, but everything is under control. How was the game?"

"Harry, where is Lily?" Ginny repeated, ignoring his question about the game.

"She's at the Burrow," Harry admitted reluctantly.

Ginny's voice rose slightly. "Harry, you promised!"

"I know," he conceded, "but something came up..."

"Something came up," she repeated incredulously, striding into the kitchen. Harry saw the issue of the _Daily Prophet_ in her hand, and without deliberation she tossed the newspaper on the kitchen table. "Something like this perhaps?" she asked, pointing to the first headline, which declared prominently, _Breaking News: Boy-Who-Lived Gives Refuge to Death Eater_

Harry felt blood drain from his face. He muttered an obscenity under his breath. Of course he knew that everything would hit the fan, he just didn't think it would be so soon.

"It's true, isn't it?" Ginny asked grimly. "I didn't want to believe it, but ... I didn't know what to believe. So I come home to find that you are using my parents as a free baby-sitting service, while..."

"Snape is not a Death Eater," Harry argued. "You know that."

"Harry, you are missing the point. You can't just decide something like that on your own, not when it affects your entire family. You can't just bring someone into your home and settle them in without consulting your wife."

"You were away," Harry pointed out.

"You could have firecalled!"

Harry gave no response to that, just stared at her in stoic silence.

"Harry, would you have asked me if I _weren't _away?" she demanded angrily, staring directly at him.

Harry did not avoid her gaze. He did not want to fight, but he didn't want to equivocate either. He had broken promises and failed her too many times, but he had never lied to her and he was not about to start now.

"To be honest, I would have brought him here no matter what you said," Harry said truthfully. "Look, he... was hurt in the line of duty. We've got to help him."

"We?" Ginny's voice rose by a few decibels. "So now that you are done making the important decisions unilaterally, _we_ are a team again?"

"Please don't yell. We can't shout around him."

"I see," Ginny said, lowering her voice. Her expression softened a little as she looked at Harry sadly. "I remember the time you said I'd always come first."

"You still do," Harry said gently. "Ginny, look, I know it's stressful, and I don't blame you for being angry..."

"I am not angry, Harry," she said, sounding more tired than he ever remembered her. "I've been angry for the last four years. I'm not angry anymore. I'm done."

"Done?" Harry repeated, refusing to accept the obvious meaning of those words.

"Don't bother picking up Lily at the Burrow tomorrow," Ginny said firmly. "I'll owl you the divorce papers early next week."

She turned away and strode out of the kitchen. He was tempted to run after her, but stopped himself. It was just too much. Everything was falling apart around him far too quickly, and all he wanted to do right now was slow down the crisis and hang on to some normalcy.

Harry cleaned up the ruined mess of the dinner before he entered the living room. Snape was standing in front of the window staring vacantly ahead, his eyes fixed on something on the horizon.

"Hey," Harry said quietly.

Snape turned around to look at him. "Did your wife just leave you?"

The question brought Harry back to reality one more time. For all their fights and arguments, Ginny had never left before, and never, ever had she threatened something like that. What's worse, she never made threats she did not follow through on. Harry's stomach clenched, as he realized that he might really have a divorce and custody fight on his hands at the beginning of next week.

"Looks that way, doesn't it," Harry said finally in a quiet voice.

Snape's eyes were empty and devoid of all life. "Because of me?" he asked with hesitation.

"No," Harry said firmly. "Not because of you. Because of me."

The horrifying, awkward silence was hanging between them again.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked finally.

"No."

"Me neither," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Because your wife just left." Snape's voice was still hesitant and uncertain, as if he was trying hard to recall the basics of human emotions and interactions.

Harry nodded tightly.

He looked at the clock. It was late, and he didn't feel up to cooking anymore. He walked over to the refrigerator and returned with another glass of water and a can of nutritional supplement.

"Drink this," he said. "Better than nothing, I guess."

He waited while Snape drank obediently and handed the empty glass and can back to Harry.

"Let's go upstairs," Harry offered. "I'll show you to your room."

Without a word, Snape followed him upstairs to the guest bedroom.

"This is it," Harry said. The conversation was still entirely once-sided, but Snape appeared to be listening to him. "My bedroom is down the hall. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need anything at all."

Snape sat on the edge of the bed, looking down.

"You are very quiet," Harry observed. "Do you need anything now? Do you have any questions?"

Snape glanced in his direction very briefly and asked in a tight voice, "When do you intend to punish me?"

"What!" Harry didn't quite yell, but the question caught him off guard.

Snape flinched a little at his exclamation. "Forgive me. I should not have asked."

That wasn't quite the effect Harry was going for and he did not know how to persuade his disoriented guest of this.

"Look, I meant what I said earlier. I don't view you as my property. You don't need to be afraid of me, or walk on eggshells. I won't hurt you. It's safe here."

No answer followed. Snape avoided looking at him altogether.

"Well, good night then," Harry said tiredly. "Try to get some sleep."

Harry left quickly. He went to his own bedroom, and curled up on the bed, hugging the pillow. Ginny's sudden departure had taken the remnants of his emotional reserves. Over the last few years he had suspected it would come to something like this, and of course he knew they weren't entirely happy being married to each other, but even so, it had never occurred to him to initiate a divorce. To him, being married had always been more than just about happiness. It was about family, and belonging. The Weasleys had become his family, and now... now his life was coming apart at the seams, fragments of it slipping through his fingers faster than he knew how to hold on to them.

A voice sounded in his mind, sounding suspiciously like Aunt Petunia, berating him, saying something about how he could never have a normal family, or belong with anyone. Harry shook his head tiredly. Maybe his Muggle relatives had been right, after all. What would someone like him know about family and belonging? Having grown up without parents, how would he even have the skills to establish and maintain something lasting and healthy? He'd thought he'd had it, but the recent events appeared to have finally proved him wrong.

Lying in the dark, he listened to the sounds of the old house and his own breathing. Marietta was right too, Harry thought bitterly. Releasing Snape into his care was a dumb move on her part. Harry could barely take care of himself, so how on earth was he going to take care of a trauma victim all on his own?

He thought he should stay up and read one of Marietta's books, but he was too tired and drained, and he doubted he could absorb any information at this time. Tomorrow, he told himself, before he finally drifted off to sleep.

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

In the room assigned to him, Severus remained awake for a long time, waiting for his owner to fall asleep. It took a while, but finally Harry's even breathing advised him that the young wizard had succumbed to sleep at last. Without making a sound, Severus got up and made his way to the kitchen.

This was the most freedom he'd had in the last seven years. He scarcely dared to believe his good fortune ... could he finally end it all, or was this sudden freedom a trick? It did not appear to be. Harry was truly asleep.

For a split-second he actually hesitated. What if Harry Potter was telling the truth? What if this new home was really safe? Quickly, Severus banished that dangerous, if attractive, thought. _Safe_ did not exist. Not for someone like him, and certainly not after the events of the evening. There was only pain and escape, escape that had eluded him for the past seven years.

With absolute silence Severus opened a kitchen drawer and stared at the assortment of knives there. He evaluated them all without touching them, and finally selected the sharpest one. He stretched himself on the floor in absolute silence and pressed the knife to his neck, seeking out the jugular vein. Quick and nearly painless, he thought— a better end than he had ever dared to dream of.

He made no sound when the knife punctured the vein and the blood began to gush out. With his last conscious effort he laid the knife quietly on the floor.

And then, he finally dared to believe that it was over, at last.

**To Be Continued... **


	8. Imperfect World

**Imperfect World**

That night, Harry dreamed of blood again, and the hoarse, choked breathing that he had heard back in the Shrieking Shack years ago. He bolted awake, drenched in cold sweat, cursing under his breath. Why did he still have nightmares like this, after Snape had been found alive?

And why was the sound still there, even though he was awake?

_Oh, hell._

Harry grabbed his wand and glasses, and ran downstairs towards the sound of that labored, choked breathing. He stopped in his tracks when he reached the kitchen.

He was standing in a small pool of blood.

Blood was gushing out of the wound in Snape's throat, just like back then, back in the Shrieking Shack, except now it was in his own home, and...

Harry's panicked stupor lasted no longer than a fraction of a second. His Auror training took over almost instantly. He knelt next to Snape, closed the puncture wound with a single spell, followed up with a few basic healing spells, and rushed to the hearth to firecall St. Mungo's.

Marietta's face appeared in the Floo at once.

"Nature of emergency?" she asked quickly.

"Blood loss, suicide attempt. I stopped the blood flow, but..."

"Don't move him. I'll be right there."

True to her word, Marietta emerged from the Floo only a minute later. She sat down next to Snape and cast a few examining spells on him, and finally said, "It's not bad. You got to him in plenty of time. I am going to sedate him for the next twelve hours. I've administered one dose of blood replenishing potion. When he wakes, get him to drink another vial of the same." She set the aforementioned vial on the kitchen counter. "Now help me get him back to bed."

Together, they moved Snape back to his bedroom, and laid him on the bed. Marietta cast a few cleansing charms on him, removing the traces of blood from his clothing. Harry covered him with a blanket and returned downstairs a few minutes later.

They spent another few minutes cleaning up the gruesome sight in the kitchen. When they finally were done and sat down on the couch, Harry realized that his hands were shaking. Marietta's disgusted glare was not doing anything to soothe his nerves either.

"You left him unsupervised. On his first night back in the normal world, after seven years of torture, you left him unsupervised. What on earth have you been _learning_ in your psych classes during your Auror training?"

Harry shook his head miserably. "Maybe it was too early to bring him home," Harry mused. "What about a psych ward at St. Mungo's?"

"What about it?"

"Maybe he'd be better off there. With trained mind-healers, under suicide watch..." Harry suggested awkwardly.

Marietta's words hit him like a cold shower.

"Bored with your new toy already, Harry Potter? Life as a slave-owner isn't as glamorous as you had hoped?"

Harry lifted his head and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. In the last seven years she had aged beyond what she should have, he thought. There were two thin lines crossing her forehead, intersecting the faded, barely noticeable scars. There was incredible weariness in her eyes too, the kind he had begun seeing in Ginny's in the last couple of years.

He moved in to sit closer to her and took her hand in his.

"Don't be cruel," Harry said softly. "You aren't very good at it, and I don't think you're enjoying it."

She looked at him, surprised, but allowed him to continue, which he did quickly.

"I'm not frustrated with him. I honestly care about him. I just think he needs professional help, not some fumbling attempts from a well-meaning amateur. Money is no issue, really. I'll find a way to pay for it."

She shook her head. "It's not that simple, Potter. You say he's innocent?"

Harry nodded silently.

"Then St. Mungo's is not a good place for him," Marietta said firmly. "It'll mess him up even more."

Harry looked up at her quizzically.

"All mind-healing programs are very… well, political, for lack of better words," Marietta explained. "At least, where former war criminals are concerned. They are geared heavily towards ... _rehabilitation_." There was a definite note of mockery in her voice. "If he really is innocent, do you really want him to spend the next six months in a mental health ward, with trained mind-healers getting him to admit his wrongs and coaxing him to accept responsibility for his war crimes?"

"That's mental!" Harry snapped. "Can't we work this out somehow? I mean... can't they just treat him for post-traumatic stress disorder, and...well, let the judgments be?"

"In a perfect world it would be possible," she conceded softly. "However, in case you haven't noticed, we don't live in a perfect world."

He looked at her sadly, again noting the scarring on her forehead, remnants of Hermione's punitive hex.

"I'm beginning to realize that," he agreed. They sat in tense silence for a while, looking at each other cautiously.

"Got anything to drink?" Marietta asked suddenly.

"Hmm?" He was taken aback by her question. "I do, but aren't you on duty?"

She shook her head. "You don't think I work 24 hour shifts, do you? No, today is my day off."

"Then why did _you_ respond?"

She smiled wryly. "I stayed behind, catching up on some paperwork. I asked to be advised if you called in, and my coworker indulged me."

"That explains how, but not why," Harry said, walking over to the bar and returning with a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses. "Why would you be doing this on your time off?"

She shrugged, accepting a glass from him. "Because you can't be billed by St. Mungo's for work I do during my off-duty hours," she said, taking a sip. "Tell me what happened last night."

"Ginny arrived early, saw him, became upset, and left," Harry said. "I think the argument stressed him out."

"Your wife left," Marietta murmured. "Not for good though?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I mean... I would like to hope not, but .. she's never left before. And .. it did sound pretty final, the way she said it. It might have happened sooner or later anyway, I think... But him being here didn't help matters."

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "That must be stressful for you."

Harry nodded tiredly. "It's not just that Ginny left, you know," he said, surprised to find himself talking about this with Marietta. "It's the whole family thing... the Weasleys are the only family I've ever had.. and now... I guess things will be awkward for a while. Even Ron and Hermione... Ginny is Ron's baby sister, and... Hermione... she's great, but whenever Ginny and I fought over the last seven years, Hermione always argued with me. Girls take each other's side. You know how it is. "

"I am afraid I don't," Marietta said softly.

"Don't what?" Harry asked automatically.

"Don't know how girls take each other's side in such matters, as my knowledge of heterosexual dating is purely theoretical," she said, giving him a long look.

It took him a while to absorb the Ravenclaw's words_._

"Oh," he said, feeling incredibly stupid. "Well, then."

This elicited the first genuine smile from her.

"By the way," she said, "I realize that it's none of my business, but do you mind telling me how you managed to spend your father's fortune in seven years?"

"Is this friendly concern?" Harry asked sourly, draining the glass of Firewhisky and pouring himself another one.

"Not at all. Morbid curiosity," Marietta said, still smiling. "Come on, tell me."

"Different things."

"I'm listening."

"I've rebuilt the Burrow from scratch," Harry said.

"The Burrow?" she murmured. "Dare I ask what that is?"

"The Weasley home... it was in really rough shape. I got them to scrap the entire thing and rebuilt it."

"How nice," Marietta said with a smirk. "Why you? Why not the Weasley kids?"

"It's complicated," Harry said. "But out of all of them, Bill was the only one who was making any real money, and he contributed, but I took care of most of it. They're family... well.. _were_ family," Harry corrected himself.

She shook her head and chuckled under his breath. "Daft. What else did you do?"

"I restored Grimmauld Place and gave it away," Harry said. "The Ministry was eyeing it, but I didn't want them to have it. I gave it to Hogwarts, you know, for education and so on..."

"I heard about that," Marietta agreed. "That was stupid."

"McGonagall was happy," Harry protested.

"I imagine she was, but that was still a remarkably daft thing to do," Marietta argued. "What else?"

"I recovered and rebuilt Arthur's flying car for him," Harry said, smiling at the memory. "That was fun."

"Daft," Marietta said flatly. "What else?"

"I've said enough," Harry muttered under his breath. "And you've mocked it all."

"Well, go on, tell me the rest of it," Marietta smirked.

The buzz of the Firewhisky had caught up with him and he felt slightly intoxicated, and more than slightly uninhibited... and for one reason or another, Marietta was actually listening to him and not really arguing. Even her occasional evaluative '_dafts__'_ did not sound like much of condemnation to his weary ears.

"You can't repeat this to others though," Harry warned her.

She gave him an amused look. "Come now, who would I repeat it to? Surely you don't think I'm one of those people who actually have friends?"

"Sorry," Harry said automatically.

"Don't be sorry. Just keep talking. Your foolishness is doing wonders for my ego."

"Ginny wanted to play Quidditch professionally... she wanted to be a Seeker. There was a really cool private training program. I sent her to do that," Harry said. "Money was no issue, really. It made her happy and she was damned good at it, so... I don't have any regrets."

She shook her head sadly. "So for the last seven years you've been trying to buy yourself love and family," she mused. "And look at you now."

"I wasn't buying love!" Harry nearly screamed at her, enraged by the suggestion. "It's not like that."

She shook her head again. "If you say so. But that's not all, is it?"

Harry muttered an obscenity under his breath.

"I know you supported Diggory's campaign when he was running for Minister of Magic," Marietta murmured. "That was remarkably stupid, even for you. How much did that cost?"

"That cost a lot," Harry admitted reluctantly. "In retrospect, I shouldn't have done that."

She glanced at him sadly. "But that part I understand, at least," she whispered, looking into her drink. "You did that for Cedric, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "I really did think I was doing a good thing..."

"Of course you did," Marietta said calmly. "You thought Amos Diggory could fill the void in his life by doing something meaningful, and maybe he'd even forgive you for surviving, when Cedric hadn't. Or something along those lines."

"Yeah well, we all make mistakes," Harry muttered bitterly. Diggory had seemed appreciative enough, at least until Harry's expendable income had run out. After that he had reverted to his usual belligerent, spiteful self, except ten times worse than before.

Harry wouldn't have cared about that part, but once Diggory got into the office things in the wizarding world quickly went pear-shaped.

"When did you realize you'd made a mistake with Diggory?" Marietta asked with genuine curiosity.

"Well, at first, he kept talking about improving world security and public safety, and I thought it was a good thing, you know, given the aftermath of the war and so on.. but I didn't know what he meant by that, until it was too late. When he brought Dementors back to Azkaban and re-instituted the Dementor's Kiss, I got angry... but then he started going after all of Voldemort's former known and suspected sympathizers in a really malicious way... and that was just too much. As you probably know, I spent the entire year after that working on keeping Draco out of Azkaban, and, er….well, saving Lucius and Umbridge from the Kiss. And after I managed to accomplish that, Diggory and I stopped talking outside of work altogether."

Marietta chuckled, a little amused. "What I can't understand is why you cared to help Umbridge, of all people."

Harry shrugged indifferently and stared at the blood-quill scar on his hand, barely visible after all these years.

"Still hate the bitch," he said sincerely, "but… look...it was a long time ago, and... well, maybe it's awfully naïve of me to say this, but we can't just Dementor-kiss everyone we despise, or everyone who'd ever sympathized with the wrong side, or had been cruel to us. What kind of world would it be if we did that?"

Abruptly and unexpectedly Marietta stood up, setting her empty glass on the side table.

"The kind of world where a former Death Eater couldn't get proper health care, I suppose," she said bitterly.

Harry lifted his half-full glass to toast her. "Touché."

She smiled again but without happiness this time. "A word of advice, Potter."

He nodded for her to continue.

"Snape's condition is more complicated than I had realized. My guess is that the slave-bond is interacting with his experiences and affecting his perception of you. You should do some research on the psychological impact of slavery, even before you start reading all the stuff I gave you yesterday."

"Right," Harry agreed. "Where would I get that sort of literature?"

"I really don't know. I imagine there are no more than a few dozen master-slave bonds in the entire wizarding world nowadays. The literature in the libraries will be hundreds of years old, and sketchy. Your best bet is to contact some pure-blood families who know a thing or two of the old ways, and get some books from their private collections."

"I can do that," Harry agreed.

"You still need to figure out what you did to trigger this sort of reaction," Marietta said softly. "Not saying it's your fault, Potter, but you do need to be careful about what you say or do around him."

"Right," Harry said again. "Anything else?"

She pulled out a small piece of parchment and a quill, and jotted something down. "My home address and my firecall connection. Contact me directly if you have any problems."

He looked at her, not managing to conceal his astonishment.

"Thanks. This really means a lot."

She nodded curtly. "One more thing. Take care of yourself. You look like crap."

She departed a moment later, without giving him a chance to respond.

**To Be Continued...**


	9. Compulsion

**Compulsion**

When Marietta left, Harry consulted the clock. He felt so incredibly tired, and wanted nothing more than to just go to bed and sleep. However... Snape was sedated for twelve hours, and would likely wake up terrified and disoriented. This meant, Harry had twelve hours, no, eleven and a half hours, he corrected himself, to make a breakthrough in attempting to communicate with his patient.

Harry finished the bottle of Firewhisky, gritted his teeth, and proceeded to the hearth to place a firecall to Malfoy Manor.

Draco's sneering face appeared in the hearth a moment later.

"Potter," he spat disdainfully. "What now? You think I'm so indebted to you, you can wake me in the middle of the night on a whim?"

"We found Snape," Harry said, not willing to get into an argument at this point. Draco's face acquired an uncharacteristically somber expression.

"His body, you mean?" Draco clarified, making desperate attempts to keep his voice from shaking.

"No. He's alive. Didn't you see the article in the _Prophet_?"

"That was _him_? He let you bring him home with _you_?" Instead of relieved or grateful, Draco sounded more scandalized than Hermione was upon seeing Snape's healthcare bill.

"He's not well," Harry said noncommittally. "Listen, I need your help. Do you have any literature on... er... slavery?"

Back in Malfoy Manor, Draco scowled with disgust.

"Potter, I don't know what you're playing at, but this isn't even remotely funny."

"Just come over and bring whatever books you've got!" Harry snapped at him, and terminated the firecall connection.

Waiting for Draco to arrive, he opened another bottle of Firewhisky. He rarely drank, and almost never to excess, but this was quickly turning out to be one of those nights.

Draco appeared shortly, with a pile of aged books and scrolls in his hands. He set them carefully on Harry's kitchen table and glanced at him.

"How is he?" Draco asked without preliminaries.

"Stable. Sedated," Harry said cautiously.

"Sedated? What happened?"

"He's not doing so well," Harry whispered, cradling his drink in his hands. "Look, it's a long story... for the last seven years, he'd been tortured by Death Eaters, because they got a hold of the Pensieve with his memories... It's all my fault you know. I really should have thought to hide it, in case the school was stormed. Now the Ministry doesn't believe that he's innocent, and they're all after him... Anyway, he's not doing well, you know? I think I scared him, or said something wrong, because he already tried killing himself tonight..."

Draco scowled at him again. "You realize you aren't making any sense at all. And what is this nonsense about slavery?"

Harry bit his lip. "I .. eh... I cast an enslavement spell on him," he admitted reluctantly. "But I didn't know what it was!" Harry added quickly.

For a few seconds Draco stared at him with pure loathing, and then, without any warning, punched him in the face. Harry's hand flew to his nose, and he felt a warm trickle of blood run down his fingers. He wiped the blood off, and without saying another word took another sip from his drink. Fighting back required just the kind of energy that Harry no longer had.

Draco was towering over him, glaring down at him. "You are going to tell me exactly what happened, from the moment you found him."

Harry nodded tiredly. "I can just show you," he offered. "I've got a Pensieve receptacle in my study... just view the memories of the past twenty-four hours. Maybe you can help me figure it out."

Draco stormed off to Harry's study. Harry heard something fall from the desk, something broke, and Draco returned a minute later with the Pensieve bowl in his hands, setting it on the kitchen table. Using his wand, Harry pulled out the strands of memories of the last twenty-four hours, and deposited them into the receptacle. Without saying a word, Draco leaned forward to view them.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Once Draco was done viewing, he lifted his head and stared at Harry thoughtfully.

"So you had so much fun with Sectumsempra that you decided you were going to try another mystery spell, huh, Potter?"

"That's not fair!" Harry protested, but without conviction.

Draco sneered at him. "Potter, this is so like you. Prancing around, casting unknown spells, thinking you know better than everyone else, while really, you don't know fuck-all."

"Fine!" Harry hissed. "You're right! All right? Now, are you going to berate me, or are you going to help?"

"Help," Draco murmured, bemused. "All right. Do you know how slave-bonds work?"

"Me? Draco, twenty-four hours ago, I had no idea they still existed."

"Of course," Draco said dismissively. "Well, here's a brief summary for you. The enslavement incantation doesn't automatically generate a demure, obedient subject. It merely primes the victim's, pardon me, the slave's mind, making it ready to accept the Master's training. The first months after the incantation is cast are critical. That's when the slave is absorbing new rules, learning his owner's wishes, so to speak. This is why he's responding to you the way he is. Severus is not doing anything but going by the rules he has learned. Or trying to, anyway."

"Rules? What rules?" Harry spat. "This shouldn't be happening! I haven't even seen him in seven years! He hasn't been trained as a slave!"

"Hasn't he?" Draco asked sternly. "What do you think his seven years of captivity were, if not training how to be the perfect slave?"

Harry's face drained of all color. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen!" he protested. "He must realize that!"

Draco was eyeing him thoughtfully. "Even if a part of him realizes that, the bond doesn't."

Harry sighed deeply. "The bond has a mind of its own?"

"In a manner of speaking. Remember, it's a subconscious force. It interprets everything in terms of his his position relative to you. As far as the slave-bond understands, his Master walked away from him in the Shrieking Shack, abandoning him to whatever happened to him later. Everything he has endured over the past seven years, the bond sees as your will."

"I didn't mean it to happen," Harry whispered bitterly. "Doesn't that count for something?"

Draco shrugged and without invitation poured himself a glass of Firewhisky.

"So where did I go wrong last night?" Harry asked. "What did I say, or do, to make him react this way?"

Draco took a sip of the drink and cringed slightly.

"It's more what you didn't say, or didn't do, I think," he mused. "You two inhabit different realities. The entire evening you were talking past each other."

"I gathered that," Harry conceded. "But... specifics, please?"

"The moment you brought him home, he asked you for instructions. You gave him none. What was he supposed to believe?"

Harry stared at him quizzically.

"He assumed that you had no actual use for him, other than to torture him," Draco said. "He spent the entire evening anticipating something horrible happening. Remember how he reacted when you asked him if he wanted something to drink?"

Harry mentally went back to that moment. "He asked for water," Harry said hesitantly.

"No, he didn't," said Draco. "He didn't say _water, please._ He said, _I want water_."

Harry rewarded him with a blank stare.

"It wasn't a request," Draco explained. "It was a confession. He confessed what he needed, expecting you to use it against him."

"He expected me to deny him _water_?" Harry was so flabbergasted he forgot he wasn't supposed to yell.

"I think so," Draco agreed. "Then, when you didn't... he assumed you had something far worse in mind."

Harry shook his head and shut his eyes tightly. This wasn't happening, he thought. They had won the war, and were living in a civilized, normal world. _This _was just an elaborate, surreal nightmare. He opened his eyes, hoping to wake up next to Ginny, only to find Draco staring at him from across the table.

"The entire evening he expected to be hurt," Draco continued. "Him thinking he was useless... The broken glass... the burned dinner... your wife leaving..."

"None of that was even his fault!" Harry protested.

Draco smiled bitterly. "Only because you are inhabiting a different reality, Potter. He's not thinking like you. Over the last seven years, he was likely tortured for as little as looking at someone the wrong way, or saying the wrong thing. You may think you were kind to him, but he spent the entire evening waiting for you to punish him. When you didn't, he assumed you were delaying, and planning something awful. The longer you delayed, the greater the tension became. Eventually, he decided he couldn't handle whatever you had in mind for him, and chose to make a gracious exit, of sorts."

Harry frowned. "Is the anticipation of being punished a magical compulsion, or a learned response?"

"Both," Draco said. "The learned response is to expect punishment, but the response was learned and reinforced in part due to the magical compulsion."

For a few minutes, Harry sat in silence, absorbing Draco's words.

"So... what do I do now?" Harry asked.

"Try to learn as much as you can about the spell. You say it was one of his own?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed.

"That's both good and bad," Draco mused. "Considering the source, the spell is likely very powerful, possibly irreversible."

"Shit," Harry muttered under his breath.

"On the bright side of things, considering the source, the spell is likely more practical than malicious," Draco said almost calmly. "Eventually, you should ask him about the details of the spell. Just probably not right away."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I don't think we are ready to have this conversation yet. What do I do in the meantime?"

Draco shrugged, obviously ill at ease. "I brought you some books. Read them over. Most books will recommend clear, unambiguous instructions, positive reinforcement for doing something right, prompt, strict punishments for mistakes..."

Harry glared at Draco. "You really think I am going to hurt him, after all he'd been through?" he asked very quietly.

Draco shrugged again. "He's a slave now. What else can you do?"

"I can treat him like he's human!" Harry spat angrily.

Draco drained the glass of Firewhisky in a single gulp. "Really, Potter?" he asked with surprising venom in his voice. "Why start now?'

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"You bloody well know what I mean," Draco said. "He was never human to either you, or Dumbledore. He was a tool to one of you, and a bogeyman to the other. Your admirable desire to set things right comes about a decade too late, if you ask me."

Harry slammed his glass on the table. He could be spiteful too, when the occasion called for it, and this definitely qualified.

"Oh, and I suppose he meant more to you and your goddamn family?" Harry demanded. "He did more for you than your own father! Tell me, how did your mother see him? As an expendable half-blood, ready to be sacrificed for her spineless son? She begged him take an Unbreakable Vow for you, Malfoy! An Unbreakable Vow! That's pathetic, if you ask me!"

The words achieved their desired effect. Draco bolted to his feet, and grabbed Harry by the collar of the shirt. "Don't you dare..."

Harry looked at him with disgust. "Don't_ I _dare?" he repeated, throwing Draco's hands off. "This is your fault as much as it's mine. He killed Dumbledore on your behalf, to save you and your family! If not for the lot of you, Snape would be free, healthy, and have the Order of Merlin on his desk."

Draco's face went ashen at those words, and Harry instantly regretted them, but not enough to take them back. Tense, uncomfortable silence hung between them. Finally, it was Draco who breached it.

"Potter," he intoned softly, "did... Severus ask about me at all? Any of us?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry. I don't think he's able to think of anything like that now. I'm sure he'll ask when he starts coming around."

"I suppose," Draco agreed. "Listen... if you need money or anything for him, let me know."

"Will do."

Harry's mind went back to his conversation with Marietta. Draco was still lingering in the kitchen when Harry asked, "Draco... maybe we can find a mind-healer for him. Someone who won't judge him, but will just treat him."

Draco smiled without happiness. "With the political climate the way it is? Good luck with that. Our kind aren't regarded kindly these days. I should know, I can't even get a counselling session for depression without it turning into some kind of mind-game, and coming back to my grievous war crimes."

Harry swore under his breath.

"Really, Potter, don't look so forlorn," Draco said calmly, with just a faint note of mockery in his voice. "You won the war. You should be wallowing in victory. That's what I'd do."

"You would, wouldn't you," Harry muttered.

Draco turned around and walked back into the living room, heading to the hearth. Harry followed him to see him off. Draco moved automatically and almost mechanically, as his hand reached for the bowl with the Floo powder.

"Draco," Harry said quietly. "I'm in way over my head here. Be honest. What do you think I should do?"

Draco's hand shook slightly, and some of the powder fell to the floor.

"You really want my honest opinion?" Draco asked in a tight voice.

"Yes."

"I think you should have let him go," Draco said softly.

"Let him go... you mean, let him die?" Harry whispered, horrified by the suggestion.

Draco nodded wordlessly.

"Tonight, or back at the Shrieking Shack?"

"Either," said Draco, avoiding looking at him.

There was a lump in Harry's throat and he stammered out accusingly, "How can you even suggest something like that?"

Draco's smile was painful and bitter.

"Just look at him, Potter. He gave his all to your side... only to end up like this? This is worse than the Dementor's Kiss. The way he was before... strong... proud... independent... he'd never have wanted this... to be this way... helpless, broken, exposed, at your mercy. That's not life, not for someone like him, and you know it. If he tries again, you should let him go."

There was a little too much dangerous truth in Draco's words, and Harry knew that he could not afford to think along those lines. Feeling unsteady on his feet, Harry leaned against the hearth and stared, mesmerized, at the fire within it. The flames were dancing with hypnotic intensity, casting dreadful, demented shadows across the living-room.

"I'm not giving up on him," Harry said stubbornly.

"Of course not," Draco said mirthlessly. "That would offend your Gryffindor sensibilities."

It hurt too much to even try to respond to that, so Harry didn't.

Draco left a moment later, and Harry sank onto the couch. He checked the time, and decided to get some sleep, after all. He cast a healing spell on his nose, then flicked his wand again, setting an alarm charm to wake him three hours before Snape.

**To Be Continued... **


	10. In Search of Comfort

**In Search of Comfort **

Harry bolted to sit up on the couch when the alarm spell woke him rudely". His head was pounding mercilessly. The hangover reminded him why he didn't drink much, as a general rule, and almost never to excess. He wandered into the kitchen, drank a vial of numbing potion, and the brutal migraine transformed itself into something duller and a great deal more bearable.

Last night's events had a distinct flair of unreality to them. Harry sighed, attempting to wrap his mind around the fact that Ginny had left him, that he was about to be fighting a likely hopeless custody battle, while babysitting suicidal Snape.

Speaking of Snape...

Harry made a quick detour into the guest bedroom, where Snape was still sound asleep. Harry surveyed the room, and then quickly "child-proofed" the bathroom, removing all sharp and breakable objects, spelling the medicine cabinet shut, and placing an unbreakable charm on the mirror.

It was still far too early in the morning to firecall the Burrow and pick a fight with Ginny. Harry wandered back into the living room, opened one of Draco's books, and began to read.

_Breakthrough, _Harry thought longingly. He needed a breakthrough. He still had more than two hours before Snape woke up.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

_He hung limp in restraints, the entire weight of his body resting on his damaged wrists. His legs refused to support him. His back and sides were covered in blood, some dry, and some fresh. _

_His thoughts were blurred, disorganized. How long had it been? A few months? No, longer than that. Half a year, perhaps?_

_How much longer would this last? Surely he couldn't survive much more of this? He kept hoping he would die, but day after day, his treasonous body denied him escape, and continued to cooperate with his captors, by pumping blood through his veins, breathing... and hurting. _

_When the whip struck again, he screamed unashamedly, horrifying himself by the sound. _

_A voice sounded behind him, and this time it wasn't taunting or threatening. It was offering something, Severus realized with a start._

"_Would you like a reprieve?" the voice asked._

_He should have refused, he should have continued to resist. He should have dared his captors to __do their worst, he should have sneered at them, like he used to during the first weeks of his captivity. Or perhaps he should have remained defiantly silent, as he used to do months ago. But lately, his defiance had begun to wane, giving way to resignation. _

_He screamed again when another blow of the whip followed the question, impacting against the exposed flesh. _

"_Y-yes," he managed to whisper, once the scream had died on his lips. _

"_I am going to release you from your bonds. When I do so, you will kneel. Do you understand me?" _

_**Kneel?**__ Had it really come to this? Would he really give in... to this? _

"_Do you understand?" the voice demanded again._

"_I understand," he said hoarsely. _

_The restraints snapped open and he stumbled mindlessly. His back burned and throbbed as if it had been flayed open, and the small puddles of blood on the floor indicated that that might well have been the case. He did not want to give in... but he could not take much more of this either. No human being was meant to endure this much pain, and continue to live. _

_But then again, he wasn't human anymore, was he? _

_If he had meant something to anyone, they would have come for him. _

_**Anyone**__ being Potter. _

_Potter – Harry – did not come for him, as he'd said he would. Potter was not dead, Severus knew that much, from overhearing fragments of conversations between his captors. Potter was alive, but had not come back for him... left him back in the Shrieking Shack... maybe he couldn't... or maybe he simply did not care to. Maybe he was content to abandon his old, loathsome teacher to whatever fate was now his, with the slave-bond hanging as an invisible, intangible, permanent token of vengeance._

"_Kneel," the voice said. "Do not make me repeat myself." _

_Moving slowly and painfully, Severus lowered himself to the floor._

"_Legs apart. Back straight. Hands on your thighs. Bow your head. Do not look up." _

_He complied mindlessly, assuming the undignified position, and shut his eyes. _

"_Good," the voice said approvingly. _

_He shouldn't have felt the overwhelming relief at that single word, but he did, and loathed himself for it. _

_The handle of the whip touched his chin. _

"_You may find this difficult to believe right now, but eventually you will find solace in this position," his captor said mockingly. "You see, while you are kneeling, we won't hurt you... much." _

_He said nothing to that. It was safer that way. _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Severus awoke with a start.

He was alive.

He had failed, the thought crossed his mind. Harry had intercepted him. He was not allowed to die here, either.

He should have known. There was no escape. Not for him. The owners were always faster, better, cleverer. He shouldn't even have tried. Now... he tried not to think of what would happen now. He got up and listened to the quiet sounds of the old house. His trained hearing was still sharp and clear as ever, even after years of captivity. He could tell instantly that Harry was awake, and downstairs. A faint rustling of paper told him that Harry was reading.

He got up, went into the bathroom, used the facilities, and turned the water on. For a few minutes he simply stood in front of the tap, staring at the stream of cold, pure water running from it. It had been so long... so long since he had had access to running water. He lowered his head to the tap and drank greedily, until his teeth hurt, and until his mouth was nearly numb. Bloody hell, but it felt good to indulge.

He tried not to think of the inevitable time when this, like everything else, would be taken away from him. He banished the thought. It would happen, he was certain of it, but it made no sense to dwell on such matters. The best he could do was live moment to moment, just as he had learned over the past seven years.

He dried his face quickly and schooled it to the usual impassive expression, not willing to hold a satisfied look that would betray his indulgence. Slowly, he made his way downstairs, and saw Harry sitting on the couch, with a book on his lap. The young wizard's face was calm and composed this morning.

Without prompting, Severus stood before his owner, bowing his head. He had no idea what to do, or say, so he just waited in silence.

"Hey there," Harry softly said. "How are you feeling?"

"I am well, Master," Severus replied and winced, correcting himself instantly, "Harry."

_Hopeless,_ he thought, he could not remember the simplest things, follow the simplest instructions.

Harry was studying him intently.

"You are censoring yourself," Harry observed. "Trying hard not to say the wrong thing, and make me angry. Yes?"

There was a lump in his throat, and all he could do was give a nod of confirmation.

"You don't need to worry," Harry told him. "I won't get angry."

Dread coursed through his entire body, but words abandoned him altogether. Severus continued to stand motionlessly, much like an errant schoolboy before a teacher.

Harry continued to talk.

"You know, Ron and I used to think you could read minds. You seemed to always know when we were hiding something, or lying about something. Of course, we didn't realize it at the time, but you weren't really reading minds. You weren't routinely using Legilimency on your wayward students. You were reading body language and facial expressions. Yes?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed reluctantly, too anxious to figure out where this odd conversation was going.

"Can you still do it? Read body language and facial expressions?" Harry asked softly.

"I think so," Severus whispered.

"I want you to look at me and study my face," Harry said.

With no small amount of trepidation, Severus complied, looking at the young, weary face, the familiar lightning-bolt scar on the forehead, and the green eyes that were gazing at him serenely.

"Now I want you to listen to me," Harry continued. "I promise you that I am not going to intentionally hurt you or harm you."

Severus stared at him blankly. His mind screamed in protest. This was not just implausible, this was inconceivable.

"Tell me," Harry offered, "am I lying to you now?"

He did not know how to answer that. Harry seemed sincere. There was no sign of deception, no evidence of hidden intention that Severus could detect, but still... the impossibility of that promise was too glaring to simply ignore.

His breath quickened, and with the last remnants of his resolve, Severus pleaded, "Please... don't."

Harry's face acquired an expression of genuine surprise.

"Don't what?"

He felt as if he was teetering on the brink of insanity. One more word along those lines, and he might lose what little he had left of his mind, becoming forever unable to distinguish between reality and fantasy.

"Don't play games with me," he asked. "It's... too much."

Realizing that he had said entirely too much, Severus waited for the outburst of anger, either verbal or physical. Only... Harry did not appear to be angry. If anything, he seemed to be taken aback by Severus' response.

"All right," Harry said finally. "No games of any kind. I promise. For the next little while, I am going to make it very simple. I'll give you instructions, and you will follow them, if you can. If you can't, you will tell me, and I will either help you, or amend them to something that you can do. How does that sound?"

"Good," Severus managed to say quietly.

"Fine," Harry said, rising to his feet. "Come with me to the kitchen. You are going to drink a vial of blood-replenishing potion. Then you are going to make breakfast for both of us."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Soon enough, Harry realized that Severus Snape had difficulty remembering how to cook. For a few minutes, the former Potions Professor stared at the breakfast ingredients with a blank expression on his face. Eventually, the blank expression was replaced with something like dread.

"Severus?" Harry called out to him, cringing inwardly at the use of the man's first name. But what else was Harry supposed to call him? Calling him by his last name seemed somehow spiteful, and calling him _Professor _seemed downright cruel at this point.

Severus was startled slightly at the use of his first name, too, but turned his head and looked at Harry expectantly.

"Combine one mug of oats with two mugs of water, bring to boil," Harry said.

He watched the man intently, ready to jump out of the chair at the first sign of trouble. He should have child-proofed the kitchen, should have removed all the sharp objects after last night, Harry scolded himself mentally, but he didn't think of that, of course, did he? Harry continued to watch nervously, waiting for some kind of disaster to strike, but nothing horrible happened. Snape – Severus simply followed instructions, making the breakfast, casting a cautious glance or two back.

"That's good. Very good. You're doing a great job," Harry said softly, as if reassuring an anxious first-year Potions student. Harry cringed inwardly, feeling guilty for talking down to Severus Snape as if the older wizard was a child. Harry was certain he was going to end up in some kind of wizarding hell, reserved specifically for people who did this sort of thing. But what else could he do at this point?

Once the food was ready, Harry set the table.

"Sit down with me," Harry said quietly. "Let's eat."

For about a minute they ate in silence, but Harry was all too aware of the fact that Severus continued to study his face. For a while, they watched each other with anxious curiosity, as if they were members of two different species making first contact.

"You don't like it," Severus said finally.

"Hm?" Harry murmured absently. "You mean, the porridge?"

"Yes." The wizard's dark eyes were settled on him, gauging his reaction.

Harry wanted to deny it, but ... he was all too aware that lying out of politeness might just precipitate a panic attack in his guest. So he smiled a little and said simply, "I hate porridge. But it's simple and bland, and it's what we both need. I have a hangover, and you haven't eaten proper food in a while. In a few days, we'll have something more pleasant."

The breakfast being over, Harry cleared the table, piling up dirty dishes in the sink. Severus was watching him intently.

"Let's go back to the living room," Harry said.

Severus followed him without a word of protest.

"Is there anything you would like to do?" Harry asked.

A small negative shake of the head answered him.

"Sit down, then," Harry said, pointing to the armchair. "We are just going to relax and read for a while. What would you like to read?"

Severus was staring at him with undisguised incredulity, as if Harry had suddenly grown an extra head. Harry did not press the issue. Instead, he went to his bookshelf, and found a Potions journal that he had purchased five years ago, because it referenced Snape's name in two of the articles.

"Here," Harry said with a slight smile. "I want you to read this. The article on Wolfsbane and the article on forensic potion research."

Severus accepted the publication from him obediently, sat in one of the armchairs, and began paging through it, looking for the articles. Harry took one of Marietta's books, and settled on the couch across from him. For a few minutes, Harry read quietly, but he was too wound up and anxious to actually absorb anything he read.

The effect of the numbing potion began wearing off, and the hangover headache made a reappearance. He tried hard not to think of having to go back to work the following morning. Leaving Snape alone in the house in this condition seemed like a horrible idea... but what else could he do? He could hire someone to watch him, but Harry wasn't certain he would trust a stranger or a simple acquaintance with Snape, and all of Harry's friends had jobs and their own lives. Selling the Black Estate would bring in a substantial amount of money, some of which would go to pay for the extortionate hospital bill, and... Harry made a quick calculation in his mind - well, he could quit his job, if need be. Maybe it was time, too, he thought bitterly. It's not as if he was doing anyone any good.

"I can't," Severus said suddenly.

Harry lifted his head. In the armchair in front of him, the older wizard was clutching the Potions journal furiously, as if strangling a poisonous snake.

"Can't focus?" Harry clarified, beginning to realize that he'd pushed for too much way too soon.

Severus nodded. The man's body was tense, and there was undisguised panic in his eyes.

"It's all right, then," Harry said. "You don't have to read now. Put the journal down."

The publication dropped to the floor instantly. Severus' hands locked together.

Harry took a deep breath. He did not want to say something that would make things worse... but the man in front of him was in the middle of something like a panic attack and for the life of him, Harry didn't know how to make things better, either. But... a daring thought flashed through his mind, maybe Severus knew? It was worth a try, he decided.

"You're at home here," Harry said finally. "If there's anything you want to do to make yourself more comfortable, and relieve your anxiety, you can do it."

_Short of poking yourself in the throat with a knife, _Harry thought belatedly, but had the presence of mind and the tact not to say it out loud.

Across the room from him, Severus lifted himself from the chair with difficulty. Slowly and uncertainly, Severus walked across the room, and stopped in front of Harry.

Harry looked down into his book, doing his best to project as much calm and normalcy as he could. This was home. Harry meant it. Severus did not need to feel like he was being watched and evaluated the entire time. Severus could do whatever he wanted. Severus...

Quietly and hesitantly, Severus slid down to the floor, kneeling in front of him.

More embarrassed than he had felt in a long while, Harry asked, "This... makes you feel less nervous?"

"Yes," Severus whispered.

Harry almost asked why, but decided that now was not the time for questions like that.

"Well... in that case, that's fine," Harry said with more than a little awkwardness on his part.

Something like relief flashed in Severus' eyes. He sighed slightly, and leaned forward, burying his face in Harry's knees.

Harry watched him for a few minutes. He wanted to offer a comforting touch of some sort, but Marietta's stern warning about "not pawing" the patient still rang in Harry's ears.

Hesitantly, Harry lifted his hand, and placed it on Severus' shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. A small sigh followed, and Harry could tell that the man's tension was beginning to recede.

Encouraged by this, Harry ran his hand down Severus' head, and along his back, observing his reaction. The breathing became more even, and more measured. Severus was beginning to calm down. Harry continued stroking him soothingly, until Severus had grown relaxed under his touch. Only then, Harry himself let out a deep breath._ They made it,_ Harry thought, nearly dizzy with relief; they made it through the first panic attack. If not for the fact that Severus Snape was kneeling at his feet, Harry would be inclined to celebrate.

Severus' breathing was becoming more and more even and deep. His body leaned forward a bit more, and Harry realized that, exhausted by the emotional turmoil, the man was beginning to fall asleep in the unnatural, awkward position.

"It can't be all that comfortable to rest that way," Harry observed very quietly, never lifting his hand off Severus' back. He leaned forward slightly and guided Severus to climb onto the couch. Severus complied with the prompting, and stretched out, placing his head in Harry's lap.

Harry rested his hand on Severus' head, running his fingers over the impossibly short hair. It did not take long at all for Severus to fall asleep.

Harry knew he needed to get up and firecall the Burrow and speak with Ginny, but the events of last night and the aftereffects of excessive drinking had caught up with him. Harry shut his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep as well.

**To Be Continued...**


	11. Intimations

**Intimations**

It was late afternoon when Harry woke up with a start at the sound of someone knocking on the door of the old house. For a moment, there was a flash of hope: that Ginny had returned, bringing Lily along. Then, the hope died as quickly as it had appeared. Ginny would not knock.

The knocking, however loud, did not wake Severus, who was still sound sleep, likely due to the remnants of Marietta's sedatives in his system. Harry was not about to wake him either. He stood up very cautiously, careful not to disturb him, walked to the door, and opened it.

Hermione and Ron stood on his doorstep. Harry's heart ached when he saw the Weasley flying car parked carelessly in the driveway. It reminded him too much of the old days, when the adventures outnumbered the misadventures.

A long and predictably awkward silence ensued, as neither seemed to know what to say. Harry kept his mouth shut and stared at the two of them warily.

"Hi," Hermione said finally in a small voice.

"Hi," Harry said. "Molly told you?"

Hermione nodded miserably. Harry cracked a small smile, and tried for humor this time. "Came to lecture me?"

That came out all wrong, not funny at all, and a great deal more defensive and belligerent than he had intended. Hermione appeared to be taken aback by his tone of voice.

"I hadn't been planning on lecturing you," Hermione said coolly, "but if you insist on being a prat..."

"I don't want to be a prat," Harry said quickly and sincerely.

"Well, good, because I don't want to lecture you," Hermione said with a genuine smile. "Are you going to invite us in, or should we just push you aside and barge in?"

"Come in," Harry said finally, stepping aside. "Just be quiet. Severus is asleep."

"Oh, so he's Severus now," Ron teased half-heartedly. "Since when?"

"Since this morning," Harry said tiredly. "It's been a crazy twenty-four hours..."

They walked quietly across the living room, and entered the kitchen. Hermione cast a silencing charm around them, and looked at Harry thoughtfully. "What happened, Harry?" she asked. "You aren't... I mean, you're so jumpy. You aren't yourself."

"Let's see," Harry said dryly, "my wife left me, I have a custody fight coming up, and I am housing suicidal Snape."

"Suicidal?" Hermione exclaimed. "Harry, what happened?"

Quickly, Harry relayed the basics of the previous night's events, including his conversations with Marietta and Draco. Hermione and Ron listened quietly.

"Why didn't you firecall?" Hermione demanded once Harry was done talking. "Harry, you promised! You promised to firecall us if something went wrong!"

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I just thought it'd be difficult, and you'd want... some distance, for a while." He glanced at his friends, feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable. "Don't you?"

By the kitchen counter, Ron was shaking his head incredulously.

"We've survived a war together, and you thought we would bail on you _now_?" Ron demanded. "Harry, you really aren't thinking straight."

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" Harry snapped, becoming embarrassed and going on the offensive this time. "Whenever Ginny and I fought, you two always took her side, without fail."

"So what," Ron said dismissively. "That doesn't mean anything. Hermione's parents always take my side when the two of us fight, but at the end of the day she knows she can count on them. You should know better, too."

Hermione looked at Harry, shook her head and muttered something barely audible, but clearly insulting, and clearly directed at Harry's intelligence.

"You're right," Harry agreed peacefully. "I just thought... oh hell, I don't even know what I thought. It's all such a spectacular mess."

Hermione's hand touched Harry's forehead. "You are running a fever," she observed. "I hope you aren't planning to go to work tomorrow."

"No," Harry said. "I'm quitting. Ron is next in line for promotion to head the Auror Office..."

Ron gave him a sour look. "Yeah right. There is no way Diggory will let me move up. He'll put one of his cronies in your place."

Harry sighed tiredly. "I can't leave Severus alone in the house though," Harry said. "He's not well. He needs someone around."

"Well then, take some time off. Don't just quit," Ron insisted with something like desperation in his voice.

"There's no way Diggory will let me take time off now," Harry protested.

"He's got no choice," Ron pointed out. "Ginny just left you, remember? You're entitled to three weeks of stress leave, with pay."

Absolutely dumbfounded, Harry stared at Ron blankly. He had completely forgotten about that. Then again, in the three years working for Diggory, he had forgotten about any rights he might have had where his employment was concerned.

"Well, bless her heart," Hermione murmured, amused. "She couldn't have timed it better."

Ron chuckled amicably. "Harry, what are you going to do about Lily?"

Harry rubbed his forehead, frowning. "I don't know. I want Lily to live with me, but I gather the odds of me actually getting custody aren't that great."

"No," Hermione conceded. "I do think that Lily needs you and Ginny both, but to be perfectly honest, having Snape living with you isn't going to help. Diggory has the family courts in his pocket, as you well know. There's just no way they will allow the child to live in the same household as Snape, if there's a suitable alternative."

"Well, what are you suggesting?" Harry asked tersely. "I should send him to Azkaban, I suppose, in exchange for my firstborn?"

"I'm suggesting no such thing," Hermione said very patiently, "but... Ron and I talked, and we could house Snape for a while, you know, if you and Ginny decide to try to reconcile, or if you just want to pursue joint custody..."

"You don't have a spare bedroom," Harry pointed out, interrupting her, and feeling bothered by how tempting it was to take her up on her offer and resume a semblance of normal life.

"We can move Rose to our bedroom for a while. Or maybe we'll add another bedroom downstairs. Or we can sell the house and buy a bigger one. Really, we can figure it out, it's not that complicated. The bottom line is, do you think he'd be willing to relocate?"

Harry shot a glance into the living room, where Severus was still sound asleep on the couch. "I don't think he'll say _no _to anything I tell him to do," Harry said bitterly.

Hermione's face paled a little. "It's... that bad then?"

Harry nodded tiredly. "I don't think we should move him now," Harry said. "His perception of reality is shaky. So ... I really don't know. Another relocation might push him over the edge. Besides, do you really want someone attempting suicide with Rose around?"

"All right then," Hermione conceded reluctantly, "I see your point. Don't move him. So my recommendation is that you try to settle the custody issue outside of court. Reach an agreement with Ginny amicably. Cede full custody to her, but retain guardianship, and insist on regular, scheduled visits for the next year. After a year, agree to re-evaluate the situation together."

"Scheduled visits?" Harry repeated bitterly. "I've never been apart from Lily for more than three days at a time. I don't like this one bit."

"I didn't think you would," Hermione conceded sadly, "but, honestly, that's your best option. From what I heard, Ginny is very upset with you. Even if we relocate Snape, she likely won't come back now."

"Oh. So what makes you think she'll be willing to negotiate with me?"

"I'll talk to her," Ron said. "She can be hot-headed when she's angry, but given a chance to cool down, she can be reasoned with. Just like me," he added with a small grin. "Really, mate, we'll help. It will work out in the end."

Harry let out another sigh of relief, and looked at his friends.

"Thanks," he said simply.

Hermione nodded and moved to examine Harry's fridge and cupboards, taking stock of what he had. Leaning back in the chair, Harry permitted the intrusion, and watched her absently until a sudden realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

"Oh shit," he whispered. "I forgot to feed him."

Ron stared at him blankly.

"Marietta said, frequent feedings, small portions, but we just both fell asleep after breakfast, and ... well, I woke up when you knocked on the door," Harry explained, embarrassed. "I should have set the alarm to wake us, should have fed him at least twice by now..."

"Harry, just relax and let him sleep," Hermione said tiredly. "Ron, since Snape is going to be staying here, why don't you help me with the boxes? Harry, you just sit and wait, we'll be back in a moment."

They left and returned a few minutes later, levitating two large boxes into the kitchen. "Groceries, nutritional supplement potions, a few basic healing potions, just in case, and some books on nutrition."

Harry groaned quietly at the mention of _more_ books to read, earning himself a brief but pointed glare from Hermione.

Hermione moved to unload the groceries, and stock Harry's cupboards and fridge, while Harry glanced at the second box resting under the kitchen table. "What's this?"

"Things for Snape," Hermione said. "We figured you didn't have time to go shopping, so we picked up a few things. Outfits, robes, personal care items..."

Harry opened the box and peeked inside. He saw the neat pile of new clothes, including the same kind of black robes that Severus Snape used to wear back at Hogwarts. He also noticed two dark grey nightshirts, a navy blue dressing-gown, a set of towels, and some toiletries.

He stroked the soft fluffy towels with his fingers, feeling incredibly embarrassed that he himself hadn't thought of this sort of thing sooner. "Thanks. That's brilliant. How much do I owe you?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Here we go again. This is getting very tedious."

"Annoying, too," Hermione muttered under her breath. "Harry, you probably won't have a chance to go shopping in the next few days. Do you need anything else?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Actually, yes," he said. "Can you drop by the apothecary at Diagon Alley, and get some Calming Draught? Like, maybe a month's worth?"

Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval. "You realize that it's habit-forming, don't you?"

Harry scowled at her. "And you must realize that if Snape kills himself, the addictive nature of Calming Draught will be a moot point."

She nodded reluctantly. "All right then. We'll see you in a few hours." She gave him a warm, sympathetic smile. "Hang in there, Harry. It'll get better, I promise."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

It was nearly dark when he woke from the gentle squeeze Harry's hand delivered to his shoulder.

"Slept well?" Harry asked quietly, leaning over him.

He blinked rapidly, trying to remember what had happened throughout the day. Nothing had, he realized with astonishment. He had simply... slept. He had slept through the entire day. That couldn't be good, could it? He looked up at Harry in alarm, but Harry's reassuring hand was still resting on his shoulder, and Severus' alarm began to dissipate.

"Hungry?" Harry asked.

He thought about it for a moment, and realized that he could not tell. More than anything, he was groggy and drained.

"I don't know," he admitted finally.

"Could you eat something?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," he said again. "I don't ... think so." He still felt slightly uncomfortable and nauseous, as if he had eaten too much earlier in the morning. It was not the case of course, but the disorienting sensation persisted.

"Your body has stopped recognizing hunger signals. It'll take a while for that part of your physiology to start regulating itself again," Harry said, guiding him to sit up. "How about some tea, and a nutritional replacement potion, then? Can you have that?"

"If you like," Severus said agreeably.

"I'd like that very much," Harry said, helping him stand up.

He moved as if in a daze, allowing Harry's hands to guide him into the kitchen and ease him onto the chair. He was still in a state of hypervigilance, expecting some sort of disaster to strike, but the presence of those guiding hands on his back and around his waist was anchoring him to reality, assuring him that nothing terrible was happening at the moment. Eventually, he sat down and waited, until a cup of hot tea and a vial of potion were placed before him. He drank the latter quickly, and then proceeded to drink the tea, watching Harry sit down next to him and pick up a cup of tea as well.

"Hermione had some bad luck shopping for us today," Harry said. "She went to purchase some Calming Draught, to help with your anxiety, but turns out it's a controlled substance now, and getting a prescription is a rather lengthy process. It's also illegal to brew in a residential setting these days, apparently," Harry added with a note of distaste in his voice.

Severus bowed his head, staring into his mug.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "Hermione can brew some of it for us. She says she doesn't care if it's illegal." Harry's eyes darted in his direction. "I guess I should ask, would you like to have some, or do you have an aversion to it?"

"I do not have an aversion to it," Severus said neutrally. "However, I doubt it would be effective."

Harry remained quiet, as if allowing those words to sink in.

"You built up a resistance to it during the years of the war, then?" Harry guessed, and smiled a little sadly. "What else? Numbing Potion? Dreamless Sleep?"

Reluctantly, Severus offered a small nod. This was not going well at all, he thought with alarm. He was already proving to be an inconvenience. Maybe he should have denied it, but after seven years of captivity, he no longer dared to lie. His hand shook slightly as he set the mug with the tea down.

"I am sorry," he offered hesitantly.

He made a desperate attempt to calm himself, but the shaking in his hands only began to increase. Harry noticed it and placed his own hand on top of his.

"We'll work it out," Harry said calmly. "We'll just have to be creative for the next little while, that's all." Harry's eyes were resting on Severus' hand, cradled in his. "Marietta said I shouldn't be .. well, 'pawing' you," Harry added, "but tell me, is this... all right?"

Severus glanced at him with undisguised surprise. He could not understand why Harry was asking if it was all right to touch him. If that's what the question was. He had probably misunderstood, Severus decided at last, and a long silence ensued, with Harry clearly waiting for an answer of some sort.

"I don't understand what you want from me," Severus confessed finally.

"I want you to tell me if I should leave you alone," Harry said.

Still disoriented, he shut his eyes, unable to focus on anything but Harry's hand on his. That felt... unlike anything he had experienced in the last seven years. Whatever else was in store for him, he did not want _this_ to end.

"I don't want to be left alone," Severus said finally.

To his surprise, Harry smiled at his words.

"Good. I don't want to leave you alone," Harry said, and squeezed his hand gently. Together, they walked upstairs to Severus' bedroom. Stopping in front of the bed, Severus stared at Harry hesitantly. The small voice of reason at the back of Severus' head was telling him that he needed to let go of Harry's hand, but his body was refusing to cooperate with the mangled remnants of his sanity.

"All right then," Harry said quietly, carefully freeing his hand from Severus' grip. "Lie down. I'm not going anywhere." A brief moment of awkwardness followed, as Severus climbed into bed, still fully dressed, and rested his head on the pillow.

The moment Harry's hand left his, the panic made a reappearance. He turned around and moved to the side of the bed, stilling himself against the vivid recollections of the recent past and the possibilities of future disasters. The bed inclined slightly when Harry stretched himself out on the other side of it, keeping some distance between the two of them.

"If it helps any, I can stay the night here," Harry offered. "I don't mean anything bad by it," he added quickly, "I mean... I remember, one night right after the war, I was very upset, couldn't stop crying, and Hermione stayed the entire night with me, just like this, because she was worried about me."

Severus turned around abruptly and stared at Harry's face, scanning it for signs of deception, or taunting. Harry took his glasses off, setting them on the bedside table, and allowed his face to be studied without any sign that it irritated him or angered him. The myopic green eyes looked misty and damp.

"Stay?" Severus repeated cautiously.

Harry nodded with a small smile and made an inviting gesture of some sort that Severus did not dare to recognize. Harry remained still, with his arms slightly opened, as if waiting for him to make a move. Uncertainly, Severus copied the gesture, and Harry's smile grew a bit wider.

Harry extended his hand to him. With a great deal of caution, Severus lifted himself on one elbow and looked at Harry's open palm. It was an invitation of some sort, but Severus was not certain how many liberties he was allowed to take in the matter. For a few moments, he simply stared at that hand, learning its shape and size, the length of the fingers, and the network of lines running across the palm. Eventually, he lowered his face to Harry's hand, and pressed his lips to the slender wrist.

Harry sighed softly, as if he was upset by something. Severus was about to withdraw when Harry's left hand rested on Severus' back between his shoulderblades.

"Let's get some sleep," said Harry. There was no rebuke or anger in his voice.

That was the last thing Severus heard before oblivion claimed him again.

**To Be Continued...**


	12. Disorientation

**Disorientation**

The next day was absolutely hellish, as far as Harry was concerned, as he found out that Severus was unable to eat. To be more precise, he ate obediently anything and everything that Harry offered, only to proceed to throw up several minutes later, no matter how bland or nutritious it was. Even the porridge that had worked the first morning was not staying down this time for some odd reason.

Met with Snape's horrified gaze, Harry only told him, over and over again, that it was not his fault. He suspected that his reassurances did not hold much weight but he offered them anyway.

Finally, in late afternoon, after several unsuccessful attempts at feeding Severus, Harry firecalled Marietta for help.

"Don't worry about it for now," she mumbled sleepily. "Try just fluids at first. Stick to the meal supplement drinks and nutritional potions for a few days, then try soups. Probably too early for solid food – you realize, he hadn't eaten properly in a while..."

"Fuck," Harry muttered under his breath. "Look – if not St. Mungo's, maybe I should take him to a Muggle hospital or something..."

"Wouldn't recommend it," she said dryly. "The moment he wakes up raving about Death Eaters, Voldemort, hexes and curses, they'll pump him full of antipsychotics. Don't think it'll be good for him."

Put that way, Harry had to admit she had a point.

"Ok. Thanks, Marietta. Sorry to wake you."

"It's fine, Potter. Anytime."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Severus drank the meal replacement and the supplement potion obediently, and handed the emptied can and the vial back to Harry.

"Feel all right so far?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Severus confirmed.

"Well, that's very good." Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned. It was only three in the afternoon, but he was absolutely drained. Even when Lily had been teething, he hadn't felt so tired. Thinking of Lily made his insides clench into a tight knot, but he pushed the thoughts aside for the time being. His face must have been absolutely transparent, because Severus obviously noticed the change in Harry's expression, and looked down again.

"Don't worry," Harry said softly. "I promise, it'll all work out eventually."

When evening came, they walked to the bedroom together, Harry carrying the box with purchases Hermione and Ron had dropped off earlier. Harry opened the box, and set it on the floor in front of Severus, inviting him to take a look inside. For a few minutes, Severus simply stared at the items, without making a move to reach for them.

"These are for you," Harry said, eager to remove any doubt. "Hermione and Ron picked them out. They thought you'd like them."

Severus nodded mutely, without touching anything.

"Well.. why don't you shower, and get ready for bed. I'll wait for you." Harry placed a dressing gown on top of the grey nightshirt in Severus' arms. "Go on," Harry said, nodding towards the shower door.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

_When the first trickle of water in the shower hit his face, he remembered..._

_The freezing autumn rain was pouring down from the sky, running down his naked, battered body. _

_He had done something wrong again, but for the life of him, he did not know what it was this time. He should probably give up on trying to figure those things out, he thought. There was no winning, no getting it right. Not here. _

"_He really is pathetic," one voice said. "You know whose name he was calling out?" _

"_Dumbledore's?" the other captor guessed. _

"_No. Potter's. He was screaming for Potter."_

"_That's very amusing." _

_His captor's hand grabbed his hair and twisted it, pulling his head back. "Do you really think that one of these days, Potter is going to swoop in and rescue you?" _

_Severus stared ahead vacantly and gave no answer. Put that way, he had to admit, it did sound preposterous, but he couldn't help what he dreamed about._

"_Potter is the Head of the Auror Office, you know," the captor's voice said. "If he had wanted to track you down, he would have done so by now." _

_There was a sound of retreating footsteps, and he was left outside in the rain._

_An old memory resurfaced: Harry's eyes, holding his gaze without looking away. _

_Harry looked at him. Harry __**understood**__. Harry promised he'd be back. _

_How long had it been? Five years, maybe six. He no longer knew, as months and seasons had begun to blend together. How could a simple memory be so vivid, so real, after all this time? Maybe it wasn't a memory, Severus thought. Maybe Harry was here, standing right next to him? _

_Gathering up the remnants of his strength, he lifted his hand and reached. _

_His hand swatted at the empty space before him. He was alone._

_The cold torrent of the autumn rain continued to pour down on him. His cheek pressed to the cold slippery ground, Severus shut his eyes. _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

When Severus departed to shower, Harry sat on the bed, hugging his knees, trying not to wallow in despair at how badly everything was going today. Not that Harry expected this to be easy, but Severus' listless, blank reaction to almost everything that should have been _pleasant_ wasn't something Harry had been prepared for.

He jumped off the bed and circled the room several times aimlessly. _Thank God for Marietta,_ Harry thought, and smiled slightly in spite of himself. He knew of course that he could count on Ron and Hermione to help, but neither of the two had the medical expertise needed for something like this.

Suicide attempt on the first night back, unable to eat, blank affect ... Harry stopped by the shower door and listened to the sound of running water.

Harry consulted the clock on the wall. Seven minutes. It'd been seven minutes.-

Having removed all the sharp and breakable objects from the bathroom, Harry wasn't worried about another suicide attempt, but being uncertain about the man's mental health, he still felt he should check in with Severus, just in case.

Harry knocked on the bathroom door hesitantly. "Severus? How are you doing there?"

No answer was given. Harry hesitated for a brief moment. "Hello?" he called, a bit louder. "Severus!"

No sound came other than that of running water.

"I'm going to come in and check on you, all right?" Harry warned, pushing the door slightly open. He stepped over a pile of Snape's clothes on the floor, and made his way to the shower stall. In there, Severus was not showering. He was crouched on the floor motionless, curled into himself. Harry shivered in the chill air and stuck his hand under the water. It was ice cold.

Harry turned the water off and placed his hand on Severus' shoulder, giving him a tiny shake.

"Hey," Harry whispered, sitting down on the shower floor next to him. Harry's eyes rested on the man's scarred back. Tiny beads of water were congregated around the wide pink lines crisscrossing the pale skin. Harry swallowed hard, feeling dizzy and nauseous. He had seen worse damage to the human body in his line of work, but never before had something like this become so personal, so intertwined with his own life.

Severus stirred slightly, turning his face to the sound of Harry's voice. "Harry?"

"Right here," Harry said tightly. "It's ok."

Severus made what appeared to be an inhuman effort and pulled himself to sit up on the floor. Small shivers were running throughout his body.

"Accio dressing gown," Harry said quietly.

The soft, thick garment flew into Harry's hand, and he threw it over Severus' shoulders, helping him slide his arms into the sleeves. Severus appeared to be moving automatically, complying with Harry's prompting. When Harry held him up gently, Severus sunk into his embrace, going limp in his arms.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

It felt safe to kneel. He was aware of that, but of little else.

Severus was barely cognizant of being dressed and guided downstairs to the familiar couch by the hearth. Harry left him alone, but only to return a few minutes later, with a few vials that Severus drained quickly, not really caring what they were. They appeared to be healing potions of some sort, Severus realized with a start once Harry took the emptied vials away and pleasant warmth began to spread throughout Severus' body.

He let out a soft breath. His Master was healing him for something this minor, and something that was his own fault. That was ... unexpected.

His head was bowed, but he watched warily as Harry sat on the couch near him.

"Hey," Harry said very quietly.

Still kneeling, he moved towards the sound of Harry's voice and buried his face in Harry's knees.

Harry's hand rose and rested on his head. The calloused, rough fingers caressed his scalp, parting the short hair with absentminded gentleness.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Harry asked softly.

He should have been unnerved by the question, but Harry's hand was doing some sort of magic with his nervous system, and Severus said without a trace of defensiveness, "I forgot where I was."

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you when I barged in on you," Harry added.

Embarrassment? That used to be an old habit of his, he remembered that much, even if he no longer remembered what that _felt _like. Old habits died hard, but they did die eventually.

"I haven't felt embarrassed in a long time," Severus said truthfully.

For a moment, he thought he might have said something wrong, because Harry's hand froze for an instant. But then, it resumed its caresses again, and Severus' alarm began to dissipate.

Somehow, against all previous experience, the touch of that careful hand began to convince him that it was safe here, at least for the moment.

"Will you punish me now?" he asked. His anxiety had receded, and he was probing around the boundaries of his new place, trying to understand what was expected of him.

"No," Harry said. "I won't hurt you."

Severus took a few minutes to absorb Harry's words. Harry said them with such conviction that Severus almost believed him.

"Do you want to use me now?" he inquired cautiously.

Harry seemed speechless for a few moments, and Severus could feel Harry's stunned gaze on him, as if it were a physical presence.

"No," Harry said again. "Look, even if you don't believe anything else right now... please try to believe _this_. I will never force myself on you."

Harry sounded upset when he said that, as if the thought of doing violence to assert his right was genuinely distressing to him.

"You wouldn't need to force me," Severus voiced softly, leaning into Harry's touch.

There was a strange quality to the silence that hung between them, and Severus suspected he'd said something to cause it. He lifted his head and looked at Harry. Harry's eyes were tightly shut behind the round glasses, as if he was struggling with a flood of emotions. However, whatever thoughts and feelings Harry was sorting through, his hand never left Severus' head.

Eventually, the warmth emanating from the hearth began to claim him, and Severus started nodding off. He thought he felt Harry's arms lift him up and place him on the couch**, **guiding him to rest his head in Harry's lap.

Half-convinced that it was some sort of surreal dream, Severus stretched out blissfully. The lights in the room were dimmed. Harry's bony thigh was the softest pillow one could imagine. And it was so warm.

Severus could not remember the last time he had felt this warm.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The following morning, Harry found himself swimming in euphoria. His disoriented mind latched onto the blissful physical sensations and held on to them, trying to match them up to whatever was closest to _this_ in his frame of reference. It took a few moments for him to realize that he was waking up being pleasured orally.

His first not-quite-awake thought was that somehow in the last twelve hours Ginny must have returned. Clearly, they made up, fell asleep together, and she decided to wake him up... like that. _Except_... he did not remember Ginny coming back. Harry remembered Severus having an episode in the shower, he remembered dressing Severus and leading him out of the shower, and... he fell asleep on the couch with Severus next to him, but...

More than slightly disturbed, Harry finally dared to open his eyes.

He was half-sitting up on the couch, leaning on his elbows. His trousers were open, and Severus was kneeling in front of him, his mouth performing wonders on his erect member...

"Stop!" Harry demanded indignantly, as soon as his brain caught up with his physiological response and reasserted himself.

The glorious ministrations ceased instantly. Still kneeling, Severus looked slightly taken aback and confused.

Harry bolted to stand up abruptly, making himself as decent as he could.

"Wait here! Don't do anything!" Harry snapped, and fled upstairs without saying another word. He rushed into the shower and turned the water on, and stepped inside, still fully dressed and not really caring. He was desperately trying to compose himself and take his mind off what just happened... _what just nearly happened_, he corrected himself...

Harry shut his eyes and shuddered. Even in his frenzied state, he _knew_ this wasn't a good thing.

But he also knew he would simply go insane if he didn't come now.

He stroked himself, trying to think about someone else - one of his former lovers, but Harry's frazzled brain was refusing to cooperate with his conscience. The picture of _someone else_ became fuzzy, and morphed into kneeling Snape, an image that Harry's treacherous mind was now threatening to adopt as one of the more erotic images in his experience. Harry came in a shattering orgasm that made his knees go weak.

Harry slid to the floor and issued a mortified groan. He remained sitting for a long time, allowing the water to cleanse him and soothe him, before he finally braved his way out of the shower. He cast a drying spell on himself and muttered an obscenity under his breath.

When Harry re-entered the living room a few minutes later, Severus was sitting on the floor by the hearth, appearing to be drowning in the enormous dressing gown he'd been wearing since last night.

"Hi," Harry said quietly, feeling his cheeks flame as he spoke. "Listen, about that..."

Severus avoided looking at him altogether. "Forgive me, I hoped you would find it... pleasurable."

"It was pleasurable," Harry admitted reluctantly, "but that's not the point. This isn't something ... that ... I mean... well, you know!" Harry snapped, exasperated. He found talking about sex difficult enough even under normal circumstances, but discussing sex with a kneeling Snape was ... just not something he had ever thought he'd have to do. "I know you are disoriented, but... look - _that_ is something people do when they find each other attractive."

"Of course," Severus murmured, still clearly distressed. "I ... must apologize again. In the past seven years my owners were far less sophisticated. My lack of physical attraction was never a factor."

"That's not what I meant either!" Harry protested indignantly, horrified that Severus was now clearly thinking he wasn't_ good enough_...

Absolutely not knowing what _else_ to do, Harry reached for Severus, and leaned forth to kiss him. Their mouths connected, and appearing to be more than slightly stunned, Severus parted his lips to admit him. The kiss was uncertain and tentative, and there was the predictable roughness of morning breath, but none of that even mattered, as Harry found himself absolutely taken aback by how _welcome_, how _accepted_ he _felt _in that kiss.

For a few brief moments, Harry gloried in that gentle acceptance, until his common sense kicked in and reminded him that the man in front of him probably didn't even _like_ him, but was simply trained to grant access to his body to anyone who might want it – and that was all.

Harry pulled away as fast as he could and said softly, "You aren't unattractive. But you are confused. And I'm married. So... no more. I mean it. All right?"

"All right," Severus agreed peacefully.

"Fine," Harry said, still feeling dreadfully uncomfortable. They made it to the kitchen a few minutes later. Harry produced the nutritional supplements that they both drank together. Severus proceeded to follow Harry's instructions, and made tea.

For a few moments while Severus was hovering over the stove, Harry watched his uncertain, tentative movements, and realized that he was looking at a complete stranger. This wasn't the Severus Snape that he used to know – this was... someone else. Someone who behaved as if he no longer _remembered_ anything other than slavery, and being owned.

"Severus?" Harry said cautiously.

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry paused a little before formulating the next question.

"How much do you remember of your life - before you were captured? Do you remember the school, the war?"

Severus turned around and stared at him without blinking, appearing to be stunned by the question.

"I remember," Severus whispered numbly.

"_How much_ do you remember?" Harry pressed.

"I remember everything." Something like anger flashed in the dark sunken eyes, but the brief intense glare died as quickly as it appeared. When Severus spoke again, his voice was resigned and uncertain. "I remember everything, Harry," he said mildly. "I simply no longer know what to make of those memories."

**To Be Continued...**


	13. Weight of the World

**The Weight of the World **

Something changed between them that day, Harry knew that, but he didn't know exactly what it was – except that Severus appeared to become increasingly attached to him, following Harry with doglike devotion, never letting him out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time while he was awake.

Severus was still feeding on the nutritional supplements and restorative potions, and that was going quite well, as far as Harry could tell.

However, for the most part, Severus just slept.

The Black Estate sold quickly, bringing in more income than Harry had anticipated. St. Mungo's bill was paid off, with plenty of money to spare. Harry knew he needed to sit down and figure out his finances, but he decided that it could wait until later.

Ron and Hermione firecalled twice a day, and Marietta dropped by once. She examined Severus, who, appearing to be ill at ease interacting with two people at the same time, requested permission to leave as soon as she was done with him.

"How's it going?" Marietta asked when Severus had departed.

"We had a misunderstanding," Harry said ruefully, and made full confession. He fully expected her to yell at him, or at the very least say something scathing, but she simply listened without any recrimination as far as Harry could tell.

"It's understandable that he'd be attempting to resort to old behaviors that have a sense of security attached to them. You declined the sexual favours of course," she said, looking at him pointedly.

"Yes, but then I kissed him," Harry confessed, longing for absolution.

"To reassure him?" she guessed.

"Something like that," Harry said.

She sighed tiredly. "Ironically, it'd make things much easier in the short term, if you had accepted his offer. He'd likely take comfort in the knowledge that he can do something to prove his worth to you. That's what survivors of sexual abuse often do – exchange their physical integrity for love, safety and comfort. With that in mind, I imagine your kiss worked very well."

Harry groaned quietly. "You've made your point. I'm sorry. I won't kiss him again."

"Well, while it is not advisable for therapists to be kissing their clients, I doubt you've done any irreparable harm. I suppose you are doing a half-decent job," she said dryly. "Don't screw this up."

Barbs and reluctant encouragement delivered, she departed quickly and Harry shook his head, wondering why he had begun liking her so much. Maybe because she reminded him of Snape the way he used to be years ago.

Throughout all this time, Harry stubbornly ignored the firecalls and owls from work. He felt terrible for doing so, of course, as he had a distinct feeling he had no _right_ to take any time off while the entire wizarding world was in crisis. Still, he stubbornly persisted in his refusal to deal with work, as he was certain that had he answered any summons, he'd be forced to return too soon, leaving Severus to fend for himself.

He tried hard not to think too much about Ginny, or Lily. As much as he wanted to simply show up at the Burrow uninvited and pick a fight with Ginny, Harry followed Ron's advice, and gave her plenty of space, deciding that she could contact him when she was ready. If there was a chance of him and Ginny working things out peacefully, without fighting over Lily, he wasn't going to blow it.

It wasn't until an entire week had passed that Ginny finally dropped by.

Harry opened the door, and she looked around. Her gaze paused on Severus, who was asleep on the couch near the fireplace, wrapped in a quilted blanket.

"Hey, Harry," she said. "May I?"

"Hi," Harry whispered. "Just be quiet, please. He's asleep. Come in."

She walked in hesitantly, as if uncertain of what the protocol was for entering her own house under circumstances like that. It was awkward as hell, Harry thought, and reached out to embrace her. She hugged him back furiously and kissed him on the cheek, and they held on to each other for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said finally. "I really made a mess of things."

He led her upstairs and they entered their bedroom, sitting down on the bed, facing each other. Harry cast a silencing charm around them, and said almost seriously, "Now you can yell at me all you like."

Ginny shook her head miserably. "I don't want to yell at you at all."

"Oh... well, you don't have to," he said smiling. "How have you been?"

"Terrible," Ginny admitted reluctantly. "I don't think I've ever cried so much. And Lily misses you something fierce."

"I miss her too," Harry said. "I miss both of you." A long silence ensued. Eventually Harry breached it with a hesitant question, "Ginny... did you really mean it about the divorce?"

"I meant it when I said it," she said softly, "but whenever I tried signing the papers, I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"I can relate to that," Harry said with a sigh of relief. "Ginny, I don't want to lose you."

She did not answer him, and Harry wondered if he'd said too much, added too much to the already fragile situation.

"I think we've lost each other already, Harry. We've drifted apart, and things haven't been the same for the last three years. But I still don't want to cut ties with you."

"I don't want to cut ties with you either," Harry said quickly. "Ginny... I really do love you."

She seemed surprised to hear that. "You do?"

"Of course I do," Harry said. "Just because I've been a moody, self-absorbed prat for the last three years, doesn't mean that I don't care."

She laughed a little at his words and Harry looked at her hopefully. "Do you want to come back? "

Ginny tensed slightly and responded with a negative shake of her head, "I don't think it'd be very wise right now."

Her voice was gentle and non-argumentative but it still stung terribly to hear that.

"We could make it work again," Harry insisted stubbornly. "We were good together once, weren't we?"

"Once," she agreed, "but that was more than three years ago. Ever since Diggory took over, and you've allowed your work to eat you up, things became different."

"I can quit," Harry said quickly. "Honestly, Ginny! I'll quit that fucking job tomorrow and do something else. I'll do better by you. Just... let's have a normal life."

"Normal life?" she asked dubiously. "Harry, I can't help but notice that you hadn't slept in your own bed for at least a few days."

Harry blushed a little, feeling like he'd been caught cheating. "It's not what you think!" he protested quickly.

"I think you're afraid he's going to try and kill himself."

Harry nodded, surprised and relieved by her insight. "Something like that, yes."

"Well, how do you picture normalcy at this point?" Ginny asked reasonably. "Shall all three of us sleep together in one big pile?"

Harry laughed out loud in spite of himself. "Would it be so bad?"

To his delight Ginny smiled as well, if only slightly. "I'm trying to be serious, Harry."

"I know," Harry conceded, "and I'm not trying to minimize the complexity of caring for a trauma victim in our home, but ... it can be worked out. And the bottom line is, this isn't a permanent arrangement. Right now, he is confused and disoriented, but it won't last. Eventually, we'll clear his name, he'll recover from his trauma, start loathing me again, move to Spinner's End, and things will go back to normal."

"I'm not sure he'll ever loathe you again," Ginny said thoughtfully. "He looked very content from what I could see."

Harry snorted under his breath. "Trust me. A few months from now, he'll be screaming at me and trying to hex my ears off."

"Well, I really hope he goes back to normal, whatever that means for him," Ginny said hesitantly. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry I yelled at you about bringing him here."

Harry stared at her dubiously. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Ginny said with obvious reluctance.

"Oh," Harry muttered. "Well, that's... thank you. I'm surprised to hear you say that, though," he admitted, not trying to start an argument, but wanting honesty.

Thankfully, Ginny did not take offense at his statement. "Why are you surprised?" she asked instead.

"All the usual reasons," Harry said tiredly. "He's a Slytherin, a mean-spirited bastard, and all that."

She nodded, appearing to be deep in though. "I won't lie, I don't think I'll ever _like_ him," Ginny said with her usual ruthless honesty, "but I'd be pretty stupid not to acknowledge a life-debt."

"You don't owe him anything," Harry argued. "It was my neck he'd been saving all those years, not yours."

"And if not for him, I might not have had you, or my daughter," Ginny said. "That... matters."

"Well if it matters to you, then come back home," Harry all but begged. "You and Lily both. I know it's really messy and weird, but we'll figure it out."

Ginny frowned slightly. "Life debts and obligations aside, I don't think it's good to have Lily in the same household with him at this point," she said bluntly.

"He wouldn't harm her!" Harry protested indignantly.

"I'm not saying he's a bad person, or a predator," Ginny said patiently, "but I am betting he's mentally and emotionally unstable due to his trauma. And surely you haven't forgotten how horrible he can be where children are concerned."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "I guess you're right. Well... what do you want to do then?"

"I'm staying with mum and dad for the next couple of weeks. You should come and visit. Visit every day if you like."

"I'd like that for now," Harry said. "But... afterwards?"

"Afterwards," Ginny said calmly, "once Snape is healthy enough, maybe she could come and visit you. Eventually, she could spend the weekends with you."

"Eventually, I'll want more than just the weekends," Harry felt the need to point out.

"In that case, eventually, I suppose we'll have to fight over her," Ginny said with a strained smile. "Just not today."

Harry nodded. "All right then."

"We'll take it day by day, week by week," Ginny said, now speaking with her normal confidence. "Let's not stress too much over whether we are still husband and wife, or... whatever. We'll focus on being a family, and just try to be better friends, and the rest will work itself out."

That sounded a little too sensible coming from Ginny, but Harry knew better than to say it like that.

"You sound like you've been talking to Hermione," Harry said instead.

"My dad actually," Ginny said with a wry grin. "He's been great. Very reasonable. Hermione's been a total bitch to me the entire week."

"How so?"

"Oh you know her. Kept lecturing me on slave-bonds, post-traumatic stress disorder and life debts. I was near ready to kill her, I swear," Ginny added, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"What stopped you?" Harry asked, laughing out loud in spite of himself.

"I wasn't too sure I could dispose of the body fast enough," Ginny said with a smirk.

"I don't believe you," Harry smirked in turn. "You could dispose of a thousand bodies if you put your mind to it. I think you're getting sentimental in your old age."

"Shush," she said solemnly, but her bright eyes twinkled mischievously. "I'll never be as old as you."

"Given how ancient I've been feeling lately, I don't think it's that great a benchmark," Harry said wryly.

Ginny bit her lip, staring at him with concern, and reached to brush his hair from his forehead. For a second, her fingers lingered on Harry's scar.

"You have, haven't you," she murmured gently. "Been feeling old, that is?"

"Yeah," Harry said with forced lightheartedness. "I totally feel like those grumpy old blokes, complaining about the weight of the world on their shoulders and all."

"That's too bad," she whispered.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Harry asked, grinning.

She grinned back at him. "No, not really."

"You still feel and act like you're seventeen," Harry said wistfully. "I've never met anyone so... passionate about life. I wish you could make me feel the same way about life you do."

"Me too," she agreed, looking at him seriously.

"Then do it," Harry said, reaching for her and pulling her into his arms. His hands roamed her back, and brushed against her hair. "Come back. Come back and stay with me." He was almost begging again at this point, but he didn't even care.

She tensed in his arms slightly, but enough for him to notice. "I don't think that'll help."

He released her abruptly. "I know," he said. "I'll miss you."

"No, you won't," she said with a smile so perfectly cheerful that it had to be faked. "I'll be around."

When she left, Harry fell on the bed face down and buried his head under the pillow. He should have been relieved at the fact that they weren't fighting about Lily, that they were still friends... but somehow, after this visit of hers, Harry felt that he'd lost _something else_. He wasn't sure what exactly it was that he'd lost _this time_ - he only knew that it hurt.

**To Be Continued...**


	14. The Last of the Light Brigade

**The Last of the Light Brigade**

The following day, Harry spent in a daze. The conversation with Ginny, even though it was peaceful and nonconfrontational, left him shaken to the core. He did his best not to emote in front of Severus, and went about the normal routine as best he could. If Severus sensed that something was amiss, he gave no sign of it, but then again, the man's ability to guard his true feelings was absolutely astounding.

In the afternoon, Harry firecalled Hermione and Ron, intending to ask one of them to come over and watch Severus, so that he could come to visit Lily, but they were not home.

When evening came, Harry was seriously considering firecalling Draco, but a knock on the door brought Harry out of his deliberations.

Molly and Arthur were at his doorstep, smiling warmly at him. Harry stepped aside to let them in. He felt awkward as hell, expecting things to be strained, but his anxiety faded when Molly hugged him right away in the usual motherly way, and Arthur patted his shoulder.

"Come on, son, you need to get going," Arthur said, still smiling. "You have a meeting to go to."

"I do?" Harry asked, wondering if he looked as daft as he felt. He tried to recall if he had an engagement he had forgotten about, but nothing came to mind.

"You do," Molly confirmed. "it's at the Burrow. Arthur and I will watch Severus. You go on. Everyone is waiting for you."

"Everyone?" Harry repeated. "Who's that?"

"It's a surprise, apparently," Arthur said. "Now, go on, Harry. Severus will be all right with us."

"Oh, thanks," Harry said. "He's asleep now, but I have meal replacement drinks in the cupboard and the fridge, if he gets hungry, and there's tea..."

"We can find our way around your kitchen," Molly assured him, "now run along."

"Right," Harry said grinning. "Thanks, mum."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The door to the New Burrow opened quietly. Walking in, Harry could hear the multiple excited conversations that were taking place simultaneously in the enormous living room.

"Well, if you think I'm going to be a part of anything that's called _Dumbledore's Army,_ you've got another think coming!" Draco's scandalized voice rose above all others.

"Malfoy, just chill," Ron said disdainfully. "Nobody's offering you a membership."

"Oh, you people do have a membership policy and all? How quaint," a familiar voice quipped, that sounded suspiciously like Blaise Zabini's.

"We also have a policy of hexing annoying prats," Lee Jordan said unkindly.

"You want to duel? I would be happy to oblige you..."

"Enough, both of you!" Hermione said angrily. "If you want to duel, do that after the meeting, on your own time, and don't spill any blood on my father-in-law's furniture."

Harry poked his head into the living room, and surveyed the crowd gathered there. He saw Ron and Hermione, George, Angelina, Ginny, and a few more members of Dumbledore's Army, including Lee Jordan, Neville and Hannah Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas and Cho Chang. Even Marietta Edgecombe was there, looking clearly uncomfortable and out of place, but keeping her mouth shut. However, that was not all. A few former Slytherin students were also present, including Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Draco Malfoy, who was sitting on one of the chairs, with his arms folded on his chest, carefully maintaining a half-bored, half-disdainful expression.

"What about McGonagall, Hagrid and Pomfrey?" Hannah asked, turning to Ron. "I thought you were going to invite them too?"

"Changed my mind," Ron said. "McGonagall has done enough in the last two years to piss off Diggory. All he needs is an excuse to have the board of governors replace her. Best if she stays out of it. Same goes for Poppy and Hagrid, their contracts aren't as secure as..."

"So where's Astoria?" Pansy queried curiously, looking up at Draco. "I thought she was going to be here."

"You thought wrong," Draco snapped, and turned his head to the door to acknowledge Harry's arrival. "Well, if this isn't the hero of the day, finally deigning to make his entrance."

"This is quite a surprise," Harry said, coming in. "What's going on?"

"I thought it would be obvious," Hermione said. "It's a gathering of Dumbledore's Army, plus some. We're going to brainstorm and plan."

"Plan for what?" Harry asked blankly.

"For helping you, you dolt," Ron said with a broad grin on his face.

"Helping me with what, exactly?" Harry asked carefully, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that a dozen former schoolmates were clearly gathered here on his behalf.

"With Snape, what else?" Hermione said matter-of-factly. "These are all the people who believe he is innocent, and want to help set things right."

Harry cast a dubious glance at the former Slytherins. "Blaise? Pansy? You want to help Snape? Why?"

Pansy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "He was the head of our House!" she spat furiously, as if it explained everything.

"Yeah, well, he wasn't exactly on i_your/i_ side during the war," Harry felt the need to point out.

"I told you we didn't belong here," Blaise said tiredly, turning his head to Pansy. "They don't get it. To them, it's all about the war, and sides. Victory has gone to their heads, and they don't really think in human terms anymore."

Harry was just about to say something scathing, when Ginny's voice cut through the simultaneous conversations taking place across the room.

"All right, shut up and sit down, everyone, before I start throwing hexes!"

Harry smirked, spotted an empty chair near the Longbottoms, made his way there, and sat down.

"First things first, does everyone know what's going on? Does anyone have any questions?" Hermione asked once everyone quieted down.

"Is it true that there's a slave bond?" Pansy asked hesitantly. "I saw something about it in the _Prophet_, but I'm not sure I trust the newspapers these days."

"Oh, it's true," Draco said bitterly and cast an accusing glance at Harry.

"That's disgusting," Daphne said instantly. "So that's how Gryffindors treat their own allies?"

Harry felt his cheeks flame. "It was an accident! I'm not exactly fond of the arrangement, all right?"

"Oh, save it, Potter," Blaise said. "I bet you're milking it for all it's worth, and enjoying every moment of it."

"He isn't," a quiet voice said from the corner of the room. Everyone's eyes turned to look at Marietta. "Potter has made some mistakes," she continued reasonably, "but he hasn't intentionally hurt Severus. In fact, the progress Severus Snape has made in his recovery in the past week has been nothing short of astounding."

Draco stared at her dubiously. "Really?" he asked in an incredibly brittle voice that threatened to break any moment. Even Harry himself was taken aback by her praise. Yes, Severus was doing well enough, all things considered, but Harry didn't think he could take any credit for that; if anything it was the man's tenacity and resilience that warranted any praise.

"Yes, really," Marietta said. "Potter isn't taking advantage of the bond. I could also mention that he paid fifteen thousand Galleons for Severus' hospital bill, since certain people in power decided it would be fun to deny the former Death Eater free health care."

"Really?" That seemed to be the only word left in Draco's vocabulary for the moment. Next to him, even Blaise seemed to be partially mollified by Marietta's explanation.

"Potter, that's... good of you," Pansy said hesitantly.

Harry found himself blushing again. "It's nothing," he dismissed quickly. "Let's ... just try to figure out what to do next, if you all want to help."

"We've got to terminate the slave-bond as soon as possible," Blaise said decisively. "Even if Potter is being good, that's just... not fair."

"It's not that simple," Draco said tiredly. "In this case, slavery is a multi-dimensional problem, that cannot be solved with a single intervention."

"Huh?" George's voice sounded. "Dumb it down please, for those of us who haven't finished school, all right?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Weasley. What do you think would happen if Harry were to set Severus Snape free right now?"

George shrugged. "A trial, I suppose, but if we were all to vouch for him..."

"It wouldn't do any good," Ginny said. "We need facts, and as you recall, we've lost the Pensieve with his memories..."

Harry cringed inwardly.

"Can't he provide another one?" George asked reasonably.

"Not yet," Marietta interjected. "I don't want anyone poking in his head and pulling out memories at this point. It's too soon for that. Not to mention, insufficient. Given his skill at Occlumency, nobody is going to believe his Pensieve, or even a testimony given under Veritaserum."

"Edgecombe is right," Ron agreed. "Any memories drawn from him will be suspect. We need something solid, something incontrovertible. There's got to be proof of his innocence kicking around somewhere. Real proof. Dumbledore wouldn't leave him stranded like that."

"Dumbledore again," Blaise said disdainfully. "It's amazing how much faith you still have in him, the cold, calculating bastard that he was..."

"But he _must_ have left something behind," Hermione argued, even though she cringed noticeably at Blaise's assessment of Dumbledore. "Letters, a Pensieve of his own, something, anything!"

"I don't understand," Cho Chang interrupted, "why can't we just paint another portrait of Dumbledore, and have him confirm that Snape was working for him, and that he asked Snape to kill him?"

Neville and Hermione groaned quietly, and Draco stared at Cho with an unpleasant sneer. "Great idea, Chang. Why don't you get a box of colored pencils and felt pens, and get started right away?"

"I am serious!" Cho protested. "We should commission portraits of Dumbledore, and all other headmasters..."

"You can't step into the same river twice," Luna Lovegood said gently, and reached out to squeeze Cho's hand.

"Huh?" Cho stared back at her in confusion.

"Simply put, once a portrait has been destroyed, all the memories it once held are irretrievable," Draco said tiredly. "You can paint your beloved Dumbledore all you want, but all it'll have is his personality. No specific memories."

"Then we have to search for proof of Snape's innocence," Ginny said bluntly. "We'll turn the school upside down, and pull it apart stone by stone if we have to."

"That might take a while," Pansy pointed out with a small frown.

"Then we'd better started right away, don't you think?" Ginny retorted.

"We'll need access to Hogwarts. McGonagall will have to help us after all," Ron mused. "So much for keeping her out of this."

"All right," Hermione said decisively. "We'll start by searching Hogwarts for clues. Once Snape's innocence is established, we can start thinking about terminating the slave-bond."

"Start _thinking_ about it?" Blaise spat. "What's there to think about?"

"Enslavement spells are complex," Draco said tersely. "A poorly devised counter-spell might end the victim's life."

"Right, and besides, some aspects of the slave-bond can be modified even without finding the counter-spell," Hermione said. "Once it is safe for Snape to be on his own, Harry could restore his freedom and social status by legal means. The emotional and magical effects of the bond will require a counter-spell though," she explained.

"I'll be working on it then," Draco said. "Nothing to worry about.

"You are so insufferably arrogant," Ginny muttered under her breath.

"No, just exceptionally brilliant," Draco said dryly.

Hermione snorted a little. "Look, I've done some preliminary research on the spell," she told him. "I can make my notes available to you."

Draco stared at her with contemptuous amusement. "I doubt you came up with anything useful, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to take a look."

"One last thing," Hermione continued, apparently deciding to ignore Draco for the moment. "So far, Harry has been watching Snape, and taking care of him; however Harry is returning to work in less than two weeks. Leaving Snape alone in the house is risky."

"Risky?" Pansy repeated. "In what way?"

"In a _him needing company_ way," Marietta said tersely. "His health, both physical and mental, requires him to be supervised at this point."

"What about that house-elf of yours, Potter?" Daphne asked with clear disdain. "I suppose you set him free, just like the mudbl..."

"Stop!" Ginny shouted. "You say that word, I'll eject you out of here so fast, you won't know what hit you."

"I didn't set him free," Harry said quietly. "Kreacher didn't want to leave. He stayed with me until he died of old age two years ago."

"Oh, and I suppose now you figure you've found a replacement," Daphne said venomously.

"Do you want to fight over Kreacher, or do you want to figure out what to do to help Severus?" Hermione asked reasonably.

"Well, what are you suggesting? That Potter hires a babysitter, or brings his slave to work with him?" Blaise asked, heavy on sarcasm.

"No," Hermione said dryly, "but some of us might want to consider volunteering to spend some time with the Professor during the day."

"As if Potter would let any of _us_ into his house," Blaise said with a quiet snort.

"Not with this kind of attitude, I won't," Harry said unapologetically. "Last thing Snape needs right now is drama over some old House hostilities that should have been buried years ago."

"Whatever," Blaise said uncomfortably. "I can't do it anyway. I work days."

"I don't," Hannah said softly. "I don't need to be at the Leaky Cauldron until about four or five in the afternoon. Mornings are quite relaxed for me, all I do is place orders and do some bookkeeping. I can do that at Harry's place just as easily."

"That's great," Harry said happily. "Pansy, what about you?"

"Me?" Pansy asked, sounding surprised.

"I think he might find it comforting to have someone from his own House spend time with him," Harry said. "Can you do it?"

She nodded. "I can do Fridays."

"Excellent," Harry said, his mind slightly reeling at the realization that he was having a civilized conversation with Parkinson. "Draco, what about you?"

"Yes, you can count me in," Draco said neutrally.

"I can do Wednesdays," George said. "And Fridays."

"Thursdays," Cho voiced quietly. "And some Mondays, but not the first or the last Monday of each month."

"I can do Tuesdays," Luna Lovegood piped. "Nothing ever happens on Tuesdays."

"I can do Tuesdays, too," Daphne Greengrass said quickly, casting an unfriendly glance at Luna.

"I'll draw up a schedule," Hermione said. "Looks like some of you will be paired up with each other, which is probably a good thing. Just try not to kill each other while supervising the patient, all right?"

"I won't kill anyone," Luna promised readily.

"I'll firecall you all, when we are ready to start searching the school," Ron said. "All right, that's all. Good night, everyone."

Marietta was the first to leave, with Luna following her. The Slytherins left shortly after that together. One by one, the members of Dumbledore's Army took off as well. Hannah and Neville lingered, and Hannah surveyed Harry with undisguised concern.

"Harry," Hannah said softly, "I wasn't going to say anything, but you've lost weight. Are you all right?"

"What? I haven't," Harry denied quickly.

"No, I think Hannah is right," Ron said, staring at Harry apprizingly. "Harry, you do look a bit thinner."

"I'm fine," Harry assured them both.

"Not to be nosy, but have you been eating all right?" Hannah probed.

"Eh, sort of," Harry said with a sheepish grin. "In the last week though, it's been a touchy subject."

"How so?"

"Well, Severus can't really keep food down," Harry explained. "So I've been feeding him meal replacement drinks and nutritional supplement potions. And then, I didn't want to eat normal food around him, if he couldn't, so..."

"You've decided to be in solidarity with his plight," Hannah said, but without any admiration in her voice. "It hadn't occurred to you to call the licensed nutritionist and a herbologist for help?"

Harry swore under his breath. It hadn't, as a matter of fact. Over the last week, he had just been happy to get through the day an hour at a time.

"I have some recipes that are incredibly easy on the system," Hannah said simply. "Neville has a whole collection of herbs that help digestion and restore wellness. I'll have my kitchen staff cook for you, and we will Floo the food to you every evening, all you'll have to do is reheat it. Think you can manage _that_ on your own?"

Harry smiled gratefully. "That'd be wonderful," he said simply. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Hannah said gently. "We're happy to help."

Neville and Hannah took off after that, leaving only Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione behind.

"That could have gone better," Hermione said with a rueful smile.

"What are you talking about?" Harry protested. "That was brilliant. Who knew that Slytherins and Dumbledore's Army members could actually have a common goal?"

"Certainly not me," Hermione admitted.

"Or me," Ron said with a grin.

"Well, you did pull it off," Harry said peacefully. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Actually it was Ginny's idea," Hermione said, and was rewarded by a sharp poke in the elbow from Ginny. "Ow."

Ginny looked up at Harry with a delighted smile.

"Told you I wouldn't give you a chance to miss me," she said with a mischievous grin, and threw her arms around him. Harry hugged her back tightly.

"Thanks, Ginny," he said sincerely. "I knew I wasn't alone in this, I knew there were people I could turn to for help, but this... this was fantastic."

"You are very welcome," Ginny said quietly. "By the way, Lily is upstairs. She's asleep, but you could come up and see her."

"I'd like that," Harry said. He followed Ginny upstairs and entered a small bedroom. Lily was sound asleep, her arm wrapped around a large stuffed dragon Harry had given to her last Christmas.

Harry knelt before the bed, and looked at her, careful not to disturb her. Nonetheless, Lily's enormous green eyes fluttered open and she smiled sleepily.

"Daddy," she said, reaching out to him. "Missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetie," Harry said quietly, brushing the hair away from her face. "I'll come to see you tomorrow."

"Promise?" she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow and sniffling quietly.

"Promise," Harry said, running his fingers through the girl's hair, and planting a kiss on her forehead.

He stayed with her until she fell asleep again, and finally he and Ginny made their way back downstairs to where Hermione and Ron were waiting for them.

"Malfoy has a point though," Ron said unexpectedly. "It's been a long time since the war. It's kind of weird to keep calling ourselves Dumbledore's Army after all these years."

"Well, what should we call ourselves then?" Hermione asked defensively. "The last of the Light Brigade?"

Harry chuckled quietly, recognizing the Muggle reference. "No, I think _Dumbledore's Army_ fits," he said wryly. "Dumbledore got Snape into this mess, so it should be Dumbledore's Army to get him out of it."

"Malfoy doesn't like it," Ron said with feigned concern.

Ginny smirked unkindly and tapped her wand. "I can always give him something else to whine about."

Harry laughed and gathered her up into a tight embrace. She hugged him back, and her lips brushed gently against his cheek.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered in a quiet voice. "Don't be a stranger."

"Never," he said, holding on to her.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

When Harry left the Burrow, he was surprised to find Marietta and Luna waiting for him outside. Marietta looked hesitant and uncertain, but Luna gave her a quick nudge and said, "Tell him!"

"Tell me what?" Harry asked instantly.

"There might be another way," Marietta said reluctantly.

"Another way?"

"To prove Severus' innocence," Marietta said. "His Patronus led you to the Sword of Gryffindor, right?"

"That's right," Harry said excitedly, catching on right away. "So if he can generate the doe Patronus, and show everyone that it was _his_ Patronus that led me to the Sword..."

"That would go a long way towards establishing his motives," Marietta confirmed.

"That's a great idea," Harry said approvingly. "So why the hesitation?"

Marietta smiled sadly. "Do you really think he'll be able to summon a happy memory at this point?"

Harry pondered the question in silence while Marietta and Luna watched him.

"Don't push too hard," Marietta warned sternly. "I wouldn't ask him right now, if I were you. If you demand too much too soon, you'll be setting him up for a failure."

"I think he can do it," Harry whispered, more to himself than to her. The man didn't survive seven years of hell without being able to hold on to something bright, something like hope.

"Harry Potter, you aren't listening to me!" Marietta snapped in exasperation.

"I'm listening," Harry objected. "Look, I promise I won't push too hard."

They said their goodbyes, and Harry headed home, absolutely elated about the possibility that the proof of Severus' innocence was within their reach. Could it really be this simple? A single Patronus charm, to prove to everyone that it was his doe that had allowed them to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor – and everything would be set right, at least where Severus Snape's legal status was concerned.

A small voice in the back of Harry's mind nudged him to heed Marietta's warning, and Harry took some time to consider her words. He had no intention of making demands, or pushing for anything – but he wasn't about to just let the idea rest on the back burner for months, either. What did they have to lose at this point? If Severus succeeded, it would be an empowering experience – producing a Patronus Charm was no small feat for anyone. And even if Severus couldn't do it right away, perhaps even the mere attempt would be helpful, as it would give him something tangible to strive for.

**To Be Continued...**


	15. Signs of Danger

**Signs of Danger**

The following morning, Harry woke up first and stared at the man who was still sound asleep in the bed next to him. In silence, Harry studied Snape's unhappy, tired face. Two sharp lines crossed the man's forehead, deep and severe, and Harry could tell that they would never be soothed smooth or erased. Still, Severus' features were becoming more and more heartwrenchingly familiar every day, and every time Harry watched the man sleep, he wondered how he could ever have called him ugly.

_Childish thoughtlessness, teenage cruelty, _Harry thought, remembering the hateful things he and Ron had said about Severus behind his back, secretly hoping the man would overhear them.

True, Severus Snape had been nasty as hell, but... Harry understood the reasons for it now, the way he couldn't have in the past. Spying for Dumbledore, pretending to work for Voldemort, risking his life, keeping everyone's secrets, losing bits and pieces of his life day after day... who could have maintained a pleasant disposition under circumstances like that? Not to mention that Harry and his friends had likely provoked a great deal of the man's spite and disdain.

If he could go back in time and take back those hateful words and thoughts, Harry would, but the past was as good as etched in stone, never to be erased or rewritten, like the tormented lines on Snape's forehead.

As if becoming aware of being watched, Severus stirred slightly in his sleep and opened his eyes.

"Good morning," Harry said, forcing out a semi-cheerful smile. "Slept well?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. Go on," Harry nodded in the direction of the bathroom.

Severus nodded and complied.

He emerged fifteen minutes later, for the most part looking well-groomed and clean, and stopped in front of the bed uncertainly, as he always did, every morning, as if he was still expecting Harry to change his mind and take advantage of him. Harry suppressed a sigh and looked at him with a friendly smile.

Harry couldn't help but notice the thick layer of stubble on Severus' upper lip and chin. Over the last three days Severus had stopped shaving. Strange, Harry mused silently, the man had always been clean-shaven, for as long as Harry remembered him. Even crawling in his own blood on the floor of the Death Eater compound, Snape had had no facial hair of any kind. Which was odd, Harry thought belatedly, a man that neglected should have had a beard to rival Dumbledore's. He hadn't though, but now, he was apparently intending to grow one.

Harry grinned slightly as he pictured Severus with a long beard.

Severus returned his smile hesitantly.

"You are growing a beard," Harry observed.

The smile disappeared from Severus' face. "I'm sorry. I'll get rid of it."

"I didn't say that," Harry protested. "It's none of my business what you grow on your face. It just looks unusual, that's all."

Severus gave him a long, calculating look. "You don't mind it?"

"I don't mind it."

The odd conversation ended abruptly and a long, strained silence ensued.

They went to the kitchen, and Harry produced two vials of nutritional supplement potion, which they drank together, hopefully for the last time, Harry thought.

"Tonight we are going to try real food, courtesy of Hannah," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Hannah runs the Leaky Cauldron these days."

Severus nodded absently, staring vacantly ahead. "Hannah Abbot?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "Hannah Longbottom, actually. Hannah and Neville have been married for about four years now. Neville teaches Herbology at Hogwarts..."

Across the table from him, Severus stiffened slightly and gave him a long, wary look.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Thank you, Harry."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

What else could he say? Severus said what was expected of him at this point, he gave the wanted response. It seemed to be enough for now.

The horrifying suspicion that he was being played with, tricked, continued to persist. He shut his eyes, and attempted to still himself. Somehow, over the last week and a half he had managed to give in to the dangerous illusion that his Master, _Harry_, he corrected himself silently, cared for him. It had felt wonderful to indulge in the fantasy, and begin to forget his place... wonderful, but dangerous, regardless.

The first sign of danger was Harry noticing that he had stopped shaving. Absently, Severus lifted his hand and rubbed his stubbled chin. Of course, the Master would notice. For seven years, his captors had kept his face clean. They did not do much else when it came to his grooming, but most of them despised the idea of mouth-fucking someone who had facial hair. Harry had assured him he had no intention of... but then, he noticed the stubble and commented on it. Had Harry changed his mind? Did Harry see the stubble for what it was, a sign of feeble rebellion, a passive attempt to erect a barrier between himself and his captor? He must have. Or did he? Severus did not know what to make of Harry's reaction. All he knew was that his position was precarious at best.

He had begun to relax again, but the mention of Longbottom's name had jerked him back to reality, and the grim realization began to set in again: he had been rescued only to end up in the hands of former students who had despised him for nearly a decade.

He supposed now would be the perfect time for Longbottom to pay him back, maybe poison him like he had threatened to poison the boy's toad years ago... the insane thought amused Severus, but not for long. He remembered all too well that many poisons could do worse things than simply end one's life.

"Severus," Harry said quietly, setting the teapot on the table between them. "How are you doing? Really?"

"I am very well, Harry, thanks to you," Severus gave the polite response, forcing his voice to the usual neutral tone.

"Really?" Harry's green eyes were studying his face, probing him, evaluating him. Severus schooled his expression to remain perfectly calm and offered a small nod. "There is something I want you to try," Harry continued, and paused hesitantly. "I realize that it might be too early for this, and if you can't do it yet, that's fine, but I'd really like you to try."

Unnerved by the long preamble, Severus nonetheless nodded again. "Of course, Harry. I will do anything you ask."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Harry protested.

Somehow, he did not believe he had the option of refusing. "What is it?" Severus asked cautiously.

"I want you to try to generate a Patronus," Harry said.

The simple request shook him to the core. Harry wanted him to cast a spell? This couldn't be real. But for the life of him, Severus could not tell what Harry was playing at. Feeling as if he was losing his mind, Severus repeated absently, "A Patronus?"

"Yes," Harry said. "We were brainstorming yesterday. Marietta suggested that if you can generate the doe Patronus, it could prove your innocence... demonstrate that your Patronus led me to the sword of Gryffindor."

Severus blinked. Throughout all this time, he'd never considered that Harry might not fully believe him either, at least where his loyalties during the war were concerned. If that was the case, his position was worse than he'd imagined.

"You require proof?" Severus asked, barely managing to keep his voice from breaking, as despair gave way to resignation.

"Not me!" Harry denied. "The Ministry of Magic. I want to clear your name. I want you to be free. I want you to receive recognition for your work for the Order!"

"You do?" Severus murmured, and was met with the disappointed gaze of the green eyes. "Forgive me," he corrected himself instantly. "Of course, I will do as you ask."

"Great," Harry said, pulling out his wand, and setting it on the table. "I realize, it might not work yet," Harry continued, "but there's no harm in trying, right?"

"No harm in trying," Severus whispered absently, and his eyes fixed on Harry's old wand. It looked just as he had remembered it.

He continued to stare at the wand, not daring to touch it.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

_Two months into his captivity, he had managed to disarm one of his captors, getting a hold of his wand. He was incapacitated after a brief, furious struggle, and the wand was torn out of his hands. _

_Immobilized, he listened as despair began to build again. _

"_Perhaps you do not quite understand your position," his captor said grimly. "Let me explain yet again. If you so much as look at us the wrong way, we'll rip off your eyelids. If you so much as whisper something snide, or scornful, we'll sever your vocal cords. And, finally, should you ever so much as attempt to touch a wand again, we'll cut off your fingers, all of them, one by one. Is that clear enough for you?" _

"_You should really cut off his hands," someone else muttered. "This sort of thing can't go unpunished." _

_His breath quickened slightly, and he bit into his lip until he tasted blood. They had taunted and threatened him with maiming him and mutilating him, day after day, forcing him to resign himself to losing body parts, and then, forcing a rush of relief that was almost akin to gratitude, when it finally did not happen. _

"_We will, in time," the first voice said. "We've got plenty of time. Years. Decades. No need to hurry." _

"_No." Someone laughed. "Anticipation is the best part, isn't it, Severus?"_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Severus' eyes were still fixed on the holly rod, lying on the table just within his reach.

"Go on," Harry said encouragingly. "Take it. It's fine."

Severus stared at the wand numbly.

"You remember the spell, don't you?" Harry asked.

"Of course."

"Good. Well, give it a try."

Shocked by what seemed like juvenile cruelty of this simple order, Severus continued to stare vacantly ahead. Whatever was left of his senses told him that he should decline, and beg for clemency, but Harry's apparently innocent gaze infuriated him beyond all reason.

_Games. _ Potter was playing games with him. That much was certain. But what was the nature of the game? Severus could not understand it, and it was driving him to insanity. He needed to _know_.

Moving instantaneously, Severus grabbed the wand, and clutched it in his hand, holding it at an awkward angle.

Across the table from him, Harry was staring at him serenely, until Severus pointed Harry's own wand at him. Harry's expression changed slightly, and his spine stiffened.

"Severus?" Harry's voice barely penetrated his awareness. "What are you doing?"

Potter sounded upset, Severus noted with something like satisfaction.

_Potter should have known better than to toy with him. Then again, Potter never knew when enough was enough, never knew the meaning of moderation, never knew when to stop, just like..._

"Severus?"

"You promised," Severus whispered, not lowering the wand. "No games."

"I'm not playing games!" Harry spat. "Now cast the bloody Patronus Charm, or give the wand back!"

His Master's indignant exclamation was almost enough to command obedience.

Almost.

_Potter probably thought that with the slave-bond in place, Severus could not disobey. If that was the case, Potter was in for a rather unpleasant surprise_, Severus thought with something like satisfaction.

Fully realizing that he was about to seal his own doom with this action, Severus pointed the wand at Harry's forehead. The tip of the holly rod was aligned with Harry's jagged scar.

Harry sighed deeply. "Whatever," he muttered tiredly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Go on. Do what you want and get it over with."

The wand still pointing at Harry's head, Severus finally uttered the spell.

"Legilimens."

**To Be Continued...**


	16. Lost and Found

**Lost and Found**

Nothing happened.

For a few moments, Severus simply stared at Harry with absolute dread. Harry himself was not faring much better. The fact that Severus had attempted to invade his mind was not nearly as unsettling to Harry as the realization that Severus was _unable_ to cast the spell.

Severus dropped Harry's wand on the table quickly, as if he'd been burned, and slouched in the chair, looking down. His entire body was tense, as if in anticipation of a physical blow, or a malicious curse. Moving as calmly as he could, Harry reached for his wand and reclaimed it.

"It might be that my wand isn't right for you," Harry said, unable to think of anything else other than the fact that Severus' magical ability was somehow compromised. "We should drop by Ollivander's and see..."

"Stop it!" Severus screamed, clenching his fists and slamming them against the table surface. "That's enough!" The quick, angry outburst died as quickly as it had emerged, and Severus turned his head away, burying his face in his hands.

Unsure how to respond to any of that, and feeling like he was dangerously close to losing his mind, Harry made a hasty retreat into the living room.

He placed a firecall to Marietta's home and her sleepy face appeared in the Floo a minute later.

"What's going on, Potter?"

"We aren't doing well," Harry said ruefully, casting a cautious glance back at the stunned Severus. "I realize you probably just got off work, but... could you come over? Even for a few minutes?"

"What happened?"

"I asked him to cast the Patronus Charm," Harry confessed, and braced himself for verbal slaughter.

Marietta didn't disappoint him.

"Of course you did. Why shouldn't he be able to think _happy _thoughts? It's been _almost two_ _whole weeks _since his rescue, after all! He spent_ nearly a whole fortnight_ without being tortured! He should be able to generate an entire herd of does at this point! There's nothing to it, right, Potter?"

"You were right. I'm sorry."

"You are _sorry_! _You_ are sorry! I warned you – but..."

"You're right," Harry whispered sincerely. "But – please. Please. Help."

She sighed deeply. "Tell me what happened."

"He sort of tried to, er, attack me, " Harry said reluctantly. "Well, not exactly attack," he amended, wanting to be fair. "He tried to use Legilimency on me."

Marietta's irritation disappeared instantly and her face brightened up. "Really? That's wonderful!"

"It is?"

"Let me guess, you were hoping he'd remain your docile pet permanently?" she asked with just a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

"Fuck you," Harry said, bothered in spite of himself. He realized that it really wasn't a compliment to his personality that he had gotten a little too comfortable with the obedient version of Snape. "Just come over, all right? Please? I'm at the end of my rope, and the end-piece is slippery."

"All right, all right," she muttered. "So what happened, anyway? Did he see your noble intentions and good motives?" Her voice was laced with honeyed venom, but Harry didn't care.

"Actually, nothing happened," Harry said, trying not to panic at the thought of what that might mean. "No magic. Maybe my wand isn't..."

"All right," Marietta said brusquely. "I'll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Try not to provoke any more attacks in the meantime."

"I'll be good," Harry assured her, and she terminated the firecall connection.

He sat on the couch and waited patiently, casting a cautious glance or two into the kitchen where Severus was still frozen in his chair.

Marietta emerged from the Floo about half an hour later, holding a large box in her hands. "Sorry it took me so long," she said, setting the box on the floor. "Damned paperwork."

"Paperwork," Harry mused, staring at the box on the floor of his living room. "What's this?"

"Ask him to come out and join us," Marietta said, ignoring Harry's question.

Harry did, and a moment later Severus entered the living room.

"Hello, Professor. Remember me?" Marietta asked.

"I remember you," Severus said quietly. "Edgecombe. Ravenclaw."

"That's right," she said. "So, I heard you attempted to cast a Legilimency spell, and it didn't work."

He nodded mutely, giving her a quick, guarded look.

"Why don't we try other wands," she said, pointing to the box. "Maybe one of these will get better results."

"You brought a boxful of wands?" Harry exclaimed. "How?"

"St. Mungo's Lost and Found," Marietta explained. "Wands left behind, unclaimed..."

"Who in their right mind would leave a wand behind?" Harry asked.

"Most of these belonged to deceased patients, whose families never requested the wands," Marietta said. "Some belonged to people with a shady past, who left the incriminating wands behind, having obtained a replacement."

"Oh." Harry was marginally bothered by the slightly macabre fact of a boxful of dead people's wands sitting in his living room, but neither Marietta nor Severus appeared to be troubled. "Well, all right." He gave Severus a small nod. "Try something simple. A _Lumos_, or a levitation spell..."

One by one, Severus went through all the wands, flicking them and attempting to cast spells. Nothing at all happened – he might as well have been trying to use pieces of dead wood to do magic. When they finally ran out of wands, heavy silence ensued in the living room.

"Well," Marietta mused, and looked up at Severus quizzically. "May I examine you?"

Severus nodded silently.

She cast a few spells on him, and took a minute to absorb the results, while Harry waited with bated breath.

Marietta looked at Severus again. "You have a right to privacy. Do you want Harry to leave before I give you the test results?" she asked.

Severus stared at her blankly for a few moments and then shook his head.

"You are still a wizard," Marietta said. "You are also not under a dark curse, or a _geis_ of any sort as far as I can tell. My guess is that your magical ability appears to be repressed at the moment."

"Repressed," Harry repeated. "Like..."

"Like some people suppress painful or dangerous memories," Marietta explained. "Some wizards suppress their magical ability, usually as a result of trauma. Probably the best publicized case at this point is..."

"Merope Gaunt," Harry muttered, interrupting her. "So what do we do?"

"We wait," Marietta said simply. "If all goes well," she looked at Severus appraisingly, "once you decide it's safe enough, your magical ability should re-emerge..."

"_Should_," Harry repeated, not liking this one bit. "Can't you do something..."

"No," Marietta said bluntly and a little unkindly. "At this point, Harry, only you can, by maintaining a stress-free, calm, restful environment."

"Oh," Harry said."I guess I really fucked that up for the moment, huh?"

"Well..." She didn't finish her statement, but there was no need. Harry bit his lip and looked at Severus apologetically.

"May I leave, Harry?" Severus asked quietly, glancing longingly at the kitchen chair.

"Yes," Harry said, and Severus slipped away from the living room.

Marietta crouched on the floor, and gathered up the wands, placing them back in the box. Harry watched her in silent admiration, fully realizing that she was doing this on her time off, for his benefit as much as Severus'. What had happened to the little, mousy, scared girl whom he used to sneer at back at school, following her betrayal of Dumbledore's Army? When did she grow up, and turn into a brilliant and compassionate woman? Or was this sort of thing always in her nature, but he was simply too angry, too spiteful to notice any of that?

He didn't know how to verbalize any of that without sounding condescending, so he simply said, "You really should bill me for this, you know. Your supervisors might be upset. I don't want you getting yourself in trouble..."

She grinned at him with obscene innocence. "Trouble? For what? All we did was try out some old wands."

"Still," Harry continued to argue, "You don't want to shoot your career in the foot..."

She shrugged indifferently. "My career never stood a chance." She glared at him without a trace of amusement this time. "Do you really think that I'll ever amount to anything other than a night-shift attendant healer, given my past?"

"What past?" Harry asked the predictably stupid question.

She gave him a long, pointed look.

"Don't tell me that people are still upset with you for what you did when you were fifteen!" Harry snapped.

Marietta shrugged. "Fifteen, or fifty, it really doesn't matter," she said calmly. "All that matters is that the world is divided into triumphant victors and defeated Voldemort's followers. I may not have done enough to warrant a sentence in Azkaban, but more than enough to screw myself up for the rest of my life."

"That's not fair," Harry whispered, taken aback by her matter-of-fact explanation. He knew of course that the wizarding world was heading straight to hell in a handbasket, but he hadn't realized that things were that bad...

"I really don't mind the night shift," she said.

"That's not the point!" Harry almost yelled, infuriated by her calm acceptance of injustice.

She stared at him without blinking. "I don't want your sympathy," she said tersely. "Now, it's already eleven in the morning, and I need to get some sleep. Don't wake me unless there's an emergency."

"Right," Harry said. "Thank you."

"Goodbye," she said, picked up her box and departed promptly.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry did not call him again when Marietta departed, and Severus continued to sit in silence at the kitchen table, processing what had happened. He wondered if he might have misjudged his predicament. Perhaps Harry had some logical, practical use for him, remembering his former expertise in Potions, or Dark Arts. That made a great deal more sense than the notion of elaborate mind games. Incidentally, that would also explain the regular feedings, the excessive rest, the reassuring touches, as well as Harry's interest in getting him to read, requests for him to cast spells, and Harry's clearly genuine disappointment when that didn't work out.

Had Harry truly intended to hurt him, wouldn't he have done so by now? Self-control was never one of Potter's strongest points. Severus sighed ruefully as he admitted to himself that the likelihood of practical intentions was far greater than the possibility that the young wizard was simply biding his time before beginning to torture him.

Unfortunately, it also meant that Severus had just failed and missed the opportunity to prove himself. He had demonstrated himself to be dangerous and unstable when he attacked Harry, attempting to invade his mind. And, as if _that_ wasn't enough, he had also proved himself to be completely and utterly useless, as he was unable to cast a single spell. Dangerous, unstable, and useless. What a prize. He supposed it was only a matter of time until Harry got rid of him, one way or another.

He shut his eyes. His first piece of good luck in seven years, or perhaps longer, and yet he had been too blind to even recognize it, and appreciate it.

He remembered the taunting voices of his captors all too well.

_**They**__ were right, _Severus thought. He was ungrateful.

Slowly, he made his way out into the living room. Sitting on the couch, Harry cast a cautious, guarded look at him. There was _still_ no anger in his expression, just concern and wariness. Wariness, because of the attempted assault?

He knelt, assuming the position of habit. He did not know what to say, what to ask for. He wanted to beg to be kept... he suspected it was too late.

"Forgive me, Master." The words fell off his tongue of their own volition. Over the years, he had become used to saying them, but never before had he meant them so completely and sincerely.

Harry nodded and smiled slightly. "I'm sorry, too. I should have been able to tell you were getting upset, but I just got excited about the idea of the Patronus, and kept pushing. That was daft, even for me."

Severus shut his eyes as the dread at his failure took over, obscuring everything else. He wished he had died, instead of being rescued. He wondered if he might find a way to end it all. The idea of changing hands over and over again, like a damaged dog that nobody wanted to take on, was too much to cope with.

"Are you going to dispose of me?" Severus asked, bracing himself for the response.

"What? No!" Harry denied instantly.

"Aren't you angry?" Severus questioned.

"No. You took me by surprise, that's all." Harry sighed slightly. "That was a great idea, by the way."

Severus considered Harry's words dutifully. "What was?" he asked finally, giving up on trying to understand.

"Legilimency. I wish it had worked." Harry shrugged. "Not that my brain is the most appealing place to poke around in, but at least you'd have seen that I mean you no harm."

Severus stared at him in surprise. "You aren't angry?" he repeated.

"Not at all."

For a few minutes, Severus continued to kneel in silence with his head bowed. "Punish me," he finally said, not daring to look up. The request should have been filled with the usual dread, but somehow, he had a feeling that this time it would be different. Potter might hurt him, but ... Severus began to believe that this time, it wouldn't be the sort of pain that threatened to claim the remnants of one's sanity.

"If I do, can you promise you won't hurt yourself?" Harry asked.

Severus was startled by Harry's insight into his private thoughts, and considered the odd question seriously. If Harry were to punish him, it would likely mean that Harry intended to keep him. If Harry were to keep him...

"Yes," Severus said quietly. "I promise."

He shuddered slightly when he felt Harry's hand rest on his shoulder.

"Fine," Harry said.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"I've got a cellar downstairs," Harry said, thinking quickly. "I want you to clean it out, and evaluate the space for comfort. Take note of the temperature, lighting, ventilation, and let me know what you think."

"I can do that," Severus agreed peacefully. "That doesn't seem like much of a punishment though."

"Wait till you see it," Harry muttered. "It has all kinds of junk. Don't sort through any of it, just put it in one big pile, and I'll Evanesco it when I get back home."

"You're leaving?" Severus asked, seeming to be troubled by the prospect.

"Yes. I'll be back in the evening. I want to go see my daughter, and spend some time with Ginny. I'm going to call Luna Lovegood to come and keep you company."

"That's not necessary."

Harry spoke bluntly this time. "I disagree. You worry me. I'd like you to have company while I am gone."

Severus did not argue. "As you wish."

Luna arrived as soon as her day at the Quibbler office was over, and Harry departed quickly, more confident than ever that he was on the road of no return, heading straight for that wizarding hell he'd imagined previously.

Over the last seven years, while thinking Severus Snape to be dead, Harry had occasionally permitted himself to daydream and indulge in a fruitless fantasy, along the lines of, _what would life have been like, had Severus Snape survived? _From time to time, Harry pictured that they'd have managed to bury the old disagreements, come to an understanding, make peace. Maybe they could have become friends, Harry would fantasize, playing an occasional game of chess, grabbing a drink in the Leaky Cauldron. The point was that somehow, Harry had imagined that with the war behind them, they might actually get along.

The scenario of Severus Snape cleaning out his cellar was just not a part of those fantasies.

He had just fucking made the war hero clean out his cellar. Harry shuddered slightly. The fact that Severus did not mind this at all, didn't make him feel any better about it. If anything, it made him feel decidedly worse.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw, was standing at the doorstep to the large cellar space. "You remember me, don't you?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" Severus muttered, staring at a small pile of rags in his hands. "I may be suffering from a variety of maladies, but dementia isn't one of them."

"That's wonderful!" Luna approved enthusiastically. "Are you going to try and kill yourself tonight?"

"No."

"Do you want me to help you clean?"

"No."

"Do you want me to read to you while you clean?"

"No."

"Can I stay here while you clean?"

"Yes."

Satisfied, she sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, and opened a small book she'd brought with her.

For the longest time, he simply gripped a moist rag, and marveled briefly at how utterly wonderful it felt to be doing something ordinary and normal with his hands.

Potter – _Harry_, he corrected himself mentally – was not disposing of him altogether. He was simply moving him down to the cellar. He was also planning to ensure that Severus had a reasonable level of comfort while staying there. Severus shook his head ruefully, feeling something like a twinge of affectionate amusement for his Master. As far as punishments went, this hardly qualified as one, but somehow, it satisfied his anxiety, leaving him relieved and almost relaxed.

Or rather, he could be relaxed, if he weren't so vexed by Marietta's diagnosis. _Repressed magical ability_. That sounded like the epitome of frailty and weakness. The good side of it, of course, was that it would resurface in time. The bad side of it was that he didn't know if it would come back in time to satisfy his owner. He still did not know _what_ on earth Harry wanted with him, but at this point it didn't matter. It was hardly a credit to him that he was willing to do just about fucking anything to earn his keep.

Throughout the evening Luna fed him several times, bringing a container of a pureed substance that smelled like potatoes and squash, and was cream-colored with orange swirls. From the _Leaky Cauldron,_ she said. She sat on the floor next to him, and they ate it together, dipping their spoons into the container.

"This is so juvenile," she said suddenly. "I like being juvenile."

It was quite late when he finished cleaning. Luna was still reading, absorbed in her book, paying absolutely no attention to him, as far as he could tell.

Slowly, he stretched out on the floor and tucked his arm under his head. Sleep came quickly, and as he was drifting off to sleep, he dreamed of Harry's hand on his shoulder. He sighed blissfully, as he gave himself over to that glorious, brilliant madness.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry returned late in the evening, completely and utterly exhausted. Luna greeted him by the Floo with a serene smile.

"I cannot believe how much energy that child has," Harry complained half-heartedly. "Where's Severus?"

"Asleep. Downstairs."

"What?"

Luna stared at him without blinking.

Harry shut his eyes tightly, fighting back the urge to scream at her.

"Please tell me he's not sleeping on the floor."

"Of course he's sleeping on the floor."

"And you _let_ him?"

Luna shrugged nonchalantly. "I figured he knows what he's doing."

"Well, thanks, I think," Harry said, with no small measure of irritation. "Good night, Luna."

"I'll be back on Tuesday. That's tomorrow," she informed him and left.

Harry walked downstairs and saw Severus, stretched out on the floor, sound asleep. Harry knelt next to him and shook his shoulder.

"Come to bed, please," Harry said. "I didn't mean for you to sleep here."

Severus sat up abruptly. "You wanted me to assess the space and see if it was livable," he said. "I assumed this was my space now."

Harry nodded. "It will be eventually," he confirmed, "but in _addition_ to the bedroom, not as a replacement. I was thinking, you might be staying with me for a while. We could set this up as a lab, or a study. I think it'll be nice for you to have your own workspace."

"Oh." Severus stared at him uncomprehendingly. "What is it that you want me to _do_ for you?"

Harry sighed deeply. "I suppose if I were to tell you that I just want you to rest and get better, you wouldn't believe me. Would you?"

He heard the man's breath quicken, and become uneven. "I'm sorry," Severus said uncertainly. "I know I've got no right to demand answers. I just want to know how I can be useful."

"I really don't care about your usefulness to me," Harry said softly. "I care about _you_."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Care," Severus repeated, the simple word sounding foreign to his ears, at least when applied to him. The word hovered somewhere just in the forefront of his awareness, and seemed like something long-lost, almost begging to be reclaimed.

He did not know how to respond.

He didn't believe it, of course. The mere idea was preposterous. And yet, Harry appeared to be genuinely troubled by the fact that Severus did not believe him.

"I'm sorry," Severus said again.

"Don't be. Can I show you something though?" Harry asked.

Severus stiffened involuntarily, as those words had never in the last seven years heralded anything _good_.

"Nothing bad," Harry assured him, noticing his tension. They walked upstairs together, leaving the barren cellar behind. Harry pointed to the couch, and Severus sat down promptly, watching Harry's every move. Harry walked to his bookshelf and searched for something in silence.

Finally Harry spoke again. "Do you think I love my daughter?"

His words caught Severus off guard for a moment, but at least this question was not confusing. He could answer it quickly and easily.

"Yes, I can tell that you do."

"If I were playing mind-games with you, do you think I'd use my daughter to do that?" Harry asked.

"No," Severus said with absolute confidence.

"Good. I want you to take a look at this. This is my daughter's birth certificate."

Severus accepted the official piece of parchment and opened it, staring down at the inscription that advised him that on August 13th, 1999, a female child was born to Harry James Potter and Ginevra Margaret Potter . The girl's name was Lily Eileen Potter.

"Eileen," Severus whispered, as his mind struggled to accept the undeniable fact that Harry Potter's daughter's middle name was that of Severus' mother.

"It was one of the few fights I managed to win with Ginny," Harry said wryly. "I wanted to name my daughter after my mother, and yours."

"Why?" Severus demanded.

"I missed you," Harry said simply. "I thought I'd lost you forever, and I missed you terribly. I wanted to have something that linked me back to you in some way. I realize we've never been on good terms, but knowing what I do now... I care for you a great deal."

Cautiously, Severus ran his fingertips across the rough, pebbled surface of the parchment. He sensed that he'd reached a turning point of some sort, and he was on the verge of seeing his entire world change again, for the second time this day.

"I am not asking you to just accept that blindly," Harry said softly, "but could you consider it?"

"Maybe," Severus whispered, returning the parchment to Harry, but not before casting one final, long look at it.

To his surprise, Harry smiled broadly. "Good, that's good. I'll take a _maybe_."

**To Be Continued...**


	17. Tripod

**Tripod**

The following morning Luna arrived early, just like she had promised.

Harry gave her a quick hug and decided that they needed to have a talk before he left Severus in her care again.

"Luna, there's something you need to understand," he said as non-argumentatively as he could. "Snape's perception of reality is rather shaky. Try not to confuse him. Please?"

She gave him a bright grin. "You're too attached to reality, Harry."

"Yes, well, I happen to rather like it."

"Do you?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

Harry snorted under his breath and gave up, departing to the Burrow before the strange conversation could escalate into an even stranger argument.

When he arrived at the New Burrow, Ginny and Lily greeted him with cheerful smiles.

"Mum is taking me to Diagon Alley!" Lily advised Harry happily.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling just the faintest twinge of resentment at the fact that the day had already been planned, and he wasn't included in those plans. Then Harry remembered the number of times he'd canceled his plans with Ginny and Lily in the last three years and held back an unhappy remark.

"Well then, I guess I'll see you later tonight?" he said instead.

"You could come along, you know," Ginny said simply. "Diagon Alley is big enough for three."

His resentment dissipated at once and he found himself grinning.

"I'd like that."

They arrived in Diagon Alley a few minutes later, and Harry lifted Lily up to let her sit on his shoulders. She squealed with delight and tugged on his hair. Ginny smiled wryly and took Harry's elbow.

"So how was the rest of your day yesterday?" she asked.

"Er… fine," Harry said, not really wanting to talk about any of it at the moment.

"What did you do?"

Harry felt his cheeks flame as he realized that the previous day had been weird beyond all measure.

"You won't believe it, but I got that blasted cellar space finally cleaned out," Harry muttered. "You've only been nagging me about it for two years."

"I'm impressed," Ginny said. "What made you finally do it?"

"Well, I've been considering setting up a workspace for Severus," Harry said softly. "What do you think?"

"Not a bad idea," Ginny agreed calmly. If she was bothered by changes taking place in her home during her absence, she gave no indication. "It's not like we're using it."

"Right," Harry agreed. "And it's a temporary thing anyway..."

"Hmm. Well, if you're setting up a workspace for him, he's going to need bookshelves and a desk," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "Want to go check out a furniture shop?"

"Now?" Harry asked, slightly stunned by her offer.

Ginny looked up, glancing at Lily who was perched on her father's shoulders.

"What do you say, sweetie? Want to go shopping for furniture?"

"We don't need furniture!" Lily said indignantly, kicking her feet.

"She has her heart set on 'Wheezes', " Ginny explained. "How about we go there after the furniture shop?"

"I don't like furniture," Lily continued to argue, her wet boots leaving tracks of mud on Harry's shirt.

"It's for a friend of your dad's who we thought we'd lost," Ginny said softly, lifting her hand to run it through Lily's dark hair. "Remember how we told you your middle name was after his mum? He needs some furniture."

Lily shifted slightly on Harry's shoulders.

"Sev'rus Snape?" she inquired softly. "You found him?"

"We found him," Harry said blissfully, grinning again. "We found him," he repeated, loving the sound of those words.

"Fine then," Lily relented. "Furniture."

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

They picked out the shelves and the desk together, bearing in mind not only the aesthetics, but also the ease of assembly. Eventually they settled on a brand which could be set up without requiring wands or tools, since it was charmed to self-assemble at the user's voice prompts.

"Perfect," Harry said enthusiastically.

"Who are they for, anyway?" the shopkeeper inquired.

"A friend of ours," Harry said quickly, having no intention of broadcasting to the entire wizarding world that Snape's magical ability was compromised for the moment. "Her parents are Muggles, and they'll be staying with her for a few months."

"Well, that's excellent," the shopkeeper approved enthusiastically. "I still remember a time when you couldn't say something like that out loud without fear of reprisal," he mused, clearly referring to the times during the war. "My father is Muggle-born, you know; it's good to see that the war wasn't for nothing."

Harry nodded absently, suddenly feeling irritated by the man's sincere reminiscing. The war might not have been completely in vain, but it certainly hadn't achieved the blissful utopia everyone had been hoping for, and Severus Snape, confused and bound to Harry's home, was an excellent case in point. Harry didn't say anything however, and simply picked up the shopping bag containing the magically shrunken purchases. He reached for his pocket to pay, but to his surprise, Ginny stopped him by placing her hand on his wrist and paid for the shelves and the desk herself.

"Thanks," Harry said as soon as they walked out of the shop, not managing to contain his bewilderment.

"Let's have breakfast," Ginny said.

They approached a small café, finding a table on the patio. The waitress appeared, pouring a mug of coffee for each of them.

"I'm not hungry!" Lily complained. "I want to play!"

"Fine," Ginny said instantly. "Run along – they have a swing and a slide in the children's play area. Stay where we can see you," Ginny pointed, and Lily ran off promptly.

"You need to be more careful with your money," Ginny said bluntly once Lily had departed. Harry was about to open his mouth to say something spiteful, something along the lines of,_ don't tell me what to do_, when Ginny placed her hand on his and squeezed. "Harry, for once in your life, listen to me," she said softly. "What if Snape needs to go back to St. Mungo's? What if something else comes up? You say _I_ still act like I'm seventeen, but you are acting like you're seven!"

Harry muttered an obscenity under his breath and had to admit, if only to himself, that she had a point... this time.

"Fine..."

"How did you pay the St. Mungos' bill anyway? I know you didn't have that much left."

"Sold the Black Estate," Harry said. "Look, don't even start – it was _mine_, we'd agreed on it."

"I don't suppose it occurred to you to ask _me_ for money?" she said softly.

"You didn't seem in the mood to be asked for anything," Harry pointed out.

"I was angry about you bringing Snape home without talking to me first, but..."

"So what are you saying? You'd have paid his hospital bill before sending him off to rot in Azkaban?"

"Harry, why is everything so black and white with you? Don't you ever see the middle ground? Even as angry as I was with you, I would never have suggested him being sent to Azkaban, but bringing him home was absolutely the most idiotic thing you could have done," she said sternly. "He could have stayed with someone else – anyone else! My parents would have been ecstatic to have him with them! Poppy would have been delighted to house him, and she has the medical expertise to help him. Do you even _understand_ what you've done?"

"He reached out to _me_!" Harry said defensively. "All I know is that when I held him it helped. I could tell. It made a difference."

Ginny glared at him with irritation. "Of course it did. You understand _why_, I hope? You realize that most likely what happened was that the slave-bond granted you direct access to his central nervous system, allowing you to calm him by physical contact? A very useful feature of the spell, especially if it was designed for wartime, for the Master to be able to calm his anxious servant with a simple pat on the head." Seeing Harry's unbelieving stare, she threw her hands up in frustration. "Let me guess, you thought he was clinging to you for some sort of sentimental reason, or because he was so awed by your kindness?"

"Fuck you!" Harry hissed under his breath, incredibly irritated that she had hit the bull's eye with her final observation.

"Not today, I'm afraid, and not ever if you keep this up," Ginny said. "What you did was utterly thoughtless, and in the long term, quite cruel. With the slave-bond in place, _and_ with you as his caregiver, you have created fertile ground for a very deep dependency to form, and an intense, passionate attachment to grow, an attachment that you'll never – _never_ – be able to reciprocate, not fully..."

Harry glanced at her in surprise. "What do you know about slave-bonds?"

"Not as much as Malfoy, but I know enough. And you, obviously, don't know anything at all, because if you had any idea of the depth and intensity of slave-bonds, you'd have left him with a good friend of his, provided for him financially, and not insinuated yourself into his life at this point."

"All right! I fucked up!" Harry snapped, desperately trying to banish the image of Severus and his putative future unrequited attachment towards him from his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't consult you. There. Happy now?"

She smiled, almost in spite of herself. "It's a start."

Harry grinned as well. "You know, Ginny, that's what I love about you. You always say it like it is."

"Always," she agreed wryly. "You know what I love about _you_? It's that once in a rare while, you do listen."

The waitress came up again and set the breakfast on the table – four croissants, buttered and drizzled with golden honey.

"God, I missed it," Harry whispered, biting into one croissant. "I thought the meal replacement drinks were bad, but Hannah's pureed stuff is ... yuck. Has no salt, has flavoring of some sort that's meant to compensate for the lack of salt, but makes it just so much worse... I can't believe he's eating it without throwing a tantrum. By the way, you didn't answer me before, how did you figure it out so quickly? With the whole thing about – you know, access to his central nervous system through physical contact, you're thinking like a ..."

"Like a kinesiologist?" Ginny smiled, but without happiness. "If you had taken an interest in my career, Harry, you would have remembered that I took courses on anatomy, kinesiology, and physiology as part of my Quidditch training."

"Oh, yes," Harry muttered. "I remember now. Vaguely."

Truth be told, he only remembered the piles of books on Ginny's bedside table and the bills he'd paid without looking at them.

"Anyway," Harry spoke again into the awkward silence between them, "now what?"

"_Now_ you want my advice?"

"Yes, now I want your advice," Harry said tiredly.

"Fine," Ginny said. "We should continue housing him, but you need to make sure you aren't the only thing in his world. Help him make connections with other people. Having other members of Dumbledore's Army spend time with him will help with that. As for the rest... I hate to say this, but Malfoy was right. We need to address Snape's legal situation first, before we consider experimenting with counterspells."

Harry grinned in spite of himself and reached to touch her forehead. "Not running a fever, are you?" he said wryly. "You've just agreed with Malfoy on something."

"Shut up," Ginny said, and her lips twitched into an amused smirk.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then, Harry reached for her and took her face in his hands, his thumbs trailing her cheekbones, reveling in the softness of her skin. He leaned in to kiss her, and she let him, with a slightly surprised look on her face. He swiped his tongue against her lips and for a few moments he simply drank in the gentle, comfortable and comforting intimacy that he'd come to rely on.

Another moment later, she pulled away from him and looked at him thoughtfully.

"You kiss differently," she said softly.

"Oh. Really? What way?" he asked, feeling very self-conscious at her observation.

"More... gentle," she said, sounding surprised. "So tender – it's almost heart-wrenching. You haven't kissed me like this since – well, since I was pregnant with Lily actually..."

He sighed. "Sorry. Did I weird you out?"

"I didn't say it was bad," she protested. "Just unexpected."

"I guess lately I've been more aware of what I've lost, or nearly lost," Harry said awkwardly. "I don't want to lose you, Ginny."

Her face fell slightly at his words, but she looked up at him to give him a brave smile.

"Best friends forever, right?" she offered hesitantly.

"And more," he said softly, unsure if he should brace himself for rejection this time.

But Ginny just smiled again. "And more," she agreed.

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

When Harry returned home in the late afternoon, he brought the bookshelves and the desk down to the cellar space and resized them, before putting Severus to work assembling them to his own liking.

"They're charmed to respond to voice prompts," Harry explained. "You can put them up any way you want. If you need help, shout for Luna."

Severus stared at him blankly, but for the first time something like hesitant pleasure crossed his face.

Encouraged by this, Harry left again and went to the Burrow to spend more time with Ginny and Lily, leaving Severus with Luna.

When Harry returned in the early evening, Luna greeted him with a smile that seemed to be just a little too innocent and too cheerful. Harry stared at her suspiciously and nearly jumped when a forceful poke was delivered to his ankle.

Harry stared down and saw a small cat that stared back at him for a fleeting moment.

"You brought a cat!" Harry snapped, slightly shocked by what seemed like a betrayal of his trust at this point. "While I was gone, you brought a cat!"

"Yes," Luna confessed bravely.

"That's not right – Luna how could you?"

Another moment later the cat ran away, heading down for the cellar. Even though the cat moved at lightning speed, Harry still noticed that something was off with its gait.

"Something is wrong with the cat," Harry said. "He's limping."

"He's missing a hind leg," Luna said serenely.

"I see," Harry said bitterly. "So, you obviously decided that my life wasn't complicated enough at this point, and you've gifted me with a three-legged cat."

"He's a very friendly cat," Luna protested. "He's been living in a church graveyard for the last two years."

"You stole a three-legged cat from a church?" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"Yes, but that's all right. You need him more than they do," Luna said. "By the way, his name is Tripod."

"His name isn't the point!"

For the first time something like doubt entered Luna's voice. "I thought you liked cats."

"I do, very much," Harry spoke more or less calmly, albeit with dwindling patience. "You know what else I like, Luna? I like being married. Specifically, I like being married to Ginny. You know what Ginny likes? She likes it when I _ask_ her before bringing someone into the house. She's funny that way."

"Oh." Luna's face fell at Harry's words. "Should I take him back then?"

"Please."

Luna shook her head. "You know, you really should seriously consider the cat, for Snape's sake. Research shows that elderly people live longer when they have a plant in their room to take care of..."

"Severus isn't elderly, and the cat isn't a plant!" Harry snapped.

"Well, you know what I mean."

"The cat needs to go."

They stared at each other in strained silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Luna was the one to breach it.

"Fine," Luna said, sitting up on a chair and crossing her arms on her chest defiantly. "Go get the cat. I'll take him away."

"Fuckitall," Harry muttered, and made his way to the cellar.

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

When the small creature first ran into the cellar space Severus gave it nothing but a cursory glance and then went back to his work. The cat made a round, surveying the room, and finally approached him, issuing a high-pitched, needy mewl, and butting Severus' ankle with his head.

"I'm busy," Severus informed him. The cat mewed again and proceeded to weave himself around Severus' feet with quiet determination.

Severus stared at the cat, taking notice of a missing hind leg.

"Pitiful little wretch, aren't you? Then again, I suppose I shouldn't be the one talking." Severus knelt on the floor and stretched out his hand, which the cat proceeded to promptly nuzzle and lick in an almost dog-like fashion. Hesitantly, Severus lifted his hand and petted the animal, awkwardly running a flat palm over the cat's fur. The cat arched his back up and purred.

Severus found himself utterly defenseless before the animal's simple action. How long had it been since someone or _something_ enjoyed his touch, without paying him back for it with mindless cruelty?

The cat continued to purr.

Severus stretched out on the floor to lie on his back and the cat proceeded to walk onto his chest and settle down on it, kneading wildly with his paws and purring. That was the position Harry found them in – Severus lying on his back on the floor, amidst the half-assembled furniture, and the cat sitting on top of him, purring out loud.

Harry stopped in the doorway and smiled.

"Hey," Harry said softly.

"Harry," Severus said instantly, making a move to sit up. "I got distracted... the bookshelves..."

"Never mind the bookshelves," Harry quickly dismissed. "Do you like the cat?"

The simple question put him on guard instantly. It was probably a small mercy that he hadn't interacted with any pets over the last seven years. Attachments were not a wise thing to develop. He had discovered it when, having been left alone for two days, he had taken to watching a large spider weave an intricate web in the corner of his cell. For hours Severus had stared at the clever arthropod, admiring his movements, until one of his captors entered the cell, intercepted his gaze, and squashed the spider without uttering a single word.

Severus had no doubt whatsoever that had he admitted to liking any animal during his captivity, the aforementioned animal would have been torn limb from limb.

But this... this time, Severus could tell, it was different, as he noticed the oddly sentimental expression on Harry's face. Even if Harry didn't like _him_, Harry wouldn't harm the cat. Where did this new faith come from? Maybe from the slightly goofy smile on Harry's face as he patiently waited for a response of some sort.

"Yes," Severus said finally. "Yes, I like the cat." Giving that answer was like taking a plunge into an abyss. Severus wondered if there would be anyone to catch him.

Harry's voice put an end to his uncertainty. "All right then. If we keep him, can you feed him and water him while I'm at work?"

Severus turned his head in Harry's direction. "Yes, I can do that."

"His name is Tripod," Harry informed him, watching the cat rub its back against Severus' stubbled chin.

"Tri-pawed?"

Harry smiled again. "Exactly."

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

Later that night, when Severus approached the bed wearing his grey nightshirt, Harry noticed that the man's fledgling beard had been shaved off. Harry wondered privately at the significance of it, but didn't ask. He also thought privately that Severus looked much, much better without the beard, but kept his mouth shut.

Harry moved to the side of the bed and shut his eyes. The bed inclined slightly when Severus crawled under the blanket next to him.

There was a small movement as someone else joined them on the bed. Tripod arrived and wormed his way between them under the covers, purring loudly. They petted him together for a long time, their fingers entwining in the cat's thick, silky fur.

"Feels nice," Harry mumbled.

"Yes," Severus agreed.

When Harry and Severus grew tired of petting him, Tripod insinuated himself between their hands, rubbing his head against their palms furiously.

"He's a self-petting cat," Harry muttered, beginning to drift.

"Yes." Severus' voice was thick with sleep. "Very efficient."

**To Be Continued...**


	18. Restless in Rest

**Restless in Rest**

The remaining days of Harry's stress leave flew by all too quickly, and felt more like a vacation than anything else. He spent the days at the Burrow playing with Lily and talking with Ginny, while Hannah, Luna, George, Lee, Cho and Pansy took turns supervising Severus.

Marietta showed up one more time, examined Severus, and then, in spite of Harry's protests, examined Harry as well.

"You need to rest more and stop worrying so much," Marietta said softly to Harry. "He's doing very well."

Harry sighed sadly. He supposed Severus was doing well enough, all things considered, but the man was still incredibly reserved, soft-spoken and subdued. The only times Severus appeared to be truly at ease was when he was petting Luna's three-legged cat. In those times, a wry, ironic smirk would linger on Severus' lips.

At night Harry and Severus still shared the same bed, although most nights they slept on different sides of it, far apart from each other. Tripod slept between them, purring loudly in a way that seemed almost mechanical, but was still very soothing. And Harry could use all the soothing in the world, because he really, really did not want to go back to work. He tried very hard not to think of all the nonsense that had undoubtedly piled up in his absence.

Still, the dreaded Monday arrived and Harry knew he had to go back to the office, even as his stomach clenched into the familiar knot of tension.

Having consulted Hermione's schedule, Harry had been expecting Draco to show up to supervise Severus; instead, there was only Luna Lovegood who arrived fifteen minutes late.

"You're late," Harry pointed out, feeling a little irritated about the undeniable fact that Draco had bailed on his commitment to spend time with Severus, and more than a little guilty about taking out his frustration on Luna.

"I got held up."

"How?"

"I couldn't decide which book to bring to read."

"I thought you were doing Tuesdays," Harry said, uncertain why he was still arguing. Maybe he just felt like picking a fight – his mood was definitely foul enough.

"Mondays are the new Tuesdays," Luna said serenely.

Harry shut his eyes tightly, wondering if he was making a dreadful mistake leaving Severus in her hands so often. If Luna was weirding _him_ out terribly, Harry thought, what would her weirdness do to the already confused and disoriented Severus Snape?

"How's the newspaper going anyway?" Harry asked, rummaging through his shoulder bag, making sure he had everything he needed.

"It's wonderful," Luna said brightly. "I've exposed several government conspiracies."

"Such as?"

"The Ministry of Magic is planning to build an entire army of Inferi, just like Voldemort had been trying to do. They are experimenting on humans. They have an entire floor in St. Mungo's dedicated to Dark Magic research," Luna reported happily.

Harry snorted under his breath. "Can you prove any of it?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, at least you're having fun," Harry muttered snidely.

"And you are procrastinating. You should go."

Harry cast a dubious glance at Severus. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Yes."

"If you need me, use the two-way mirror I gave you to contact me," Harry said. "If you are uncomfortable with anything, or if you want me to come back for any reason, please call me. All right?"

"All right," Severus said.

Harry gritted his teeth and stepped into the Floo, ready to face another day out in the wizarding world.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

_All right._ He hadn't been_ all right_ in seven years, or perhaps even longer than that, Severus thought. And yet, now he was – or at least was going to be.

He looked up at the young woman curled up in the armchair across the room and marveled again at the simple fact that he was alive. Simply alive.

He hadn't expected that. He had never expected to live past the war, to see the victory over the Dark Lord – _Voldemort_, he corrected himself and smirked maliciously.

_The war_, he thought suddenly, and his mind reeled again. The war was over, had been over for seven years. He'd known that of course. And yet... over the last three weeks, he'd been so preoccupied with his personal survival, with avoiding pain and maintaining his sanity, that it hadn't even occured to him to ask about the others.

During his captivity Severus had overheard enough of his tormentors' conversations to know that the Malfoys had survived, and that Tonks and Lupin had died. Still, he wondered... what if someone else had died? He thought of Poppy, Hagrid, Sprout, McGonagall, and winced slightly, not wanting to imagine that any of them had died years ago without his _knowing_, or without his even _thinking_ about them immediately upon his rescue. _Self-absorbed, self-pitying_,_ self-centered, _he scolded himself, furious with himself for not thinking to ask sooner, yet still dreading to ask now.

"What is it?" Luna asked softly, noticing the change in his expression.

"The war," Severus muttered under his breath. "Who died?"

"Oh," she murmured and shifted slightly in her chair. "Fred Weasley, Bellatrix Lestrange, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Fenrir Greyback, Colin Creevey…" She recited the names quietly, names of friends and foes alike, as if it didn't matter to her who was which, as if death somehow made everyone equal in her eyes.

"Poppy? Hagrid? Sprout?" he questioned cautiously. "Draco?"

"All fine. Draco is fine too. Harry kept him out of Azkaban," Luna said matter-of-factly.

Severus stared at her blankly. He was relieved — immensely relieved — to learn that his godson was free. He hadn't expected to hear _that_ though, definitely not in light of what he remembered of Harry's ongoing vendetta with Draco.

"Why did Harry do that?" he inquired, suddenly feeling the smallest twinge of resentment and bitterness arise, as he believed he already knew the answer. The automatic thought arose: _He's just like James, collecting people who'll owe him... to taunt them later. _

Luna just shrugged.

"Who _else_ did Harry rescue, I wonder?" Severus murmured, unable to keep the tiniest note of disdain creeping into his voice.

"Lucius and Umbridge," Luna said. "They were going to be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, but Harry managed to turn that around. They're in Azkaban now. Umbridge will get out next year, I am told. Lucius is there for another five."

"Oh." The bitterness of that revelation was almost too much to handle. And to think, he'd come to believe that Potter _cared_ for him. No, the explanation was much simpler than that. He was now a part of Potter's _collection, _along with Umbridge and the elder Malfoy—just another person _indebted_ to Potter. He smirked unhappily.

"More life-debts to be repaid," he snorted under his breath. "Wonderful."

"Hmm?" Luna stared at him with surprise. "Oh, no. It's not like that at all. Life-debts were canceled as a measuring unit three years ago. There are no debts anymore."

That incredibly strange statement of hers struck a chord with him, as in spite of himself, he pictured it – a life free of debts, obligations,_ 'ought to'_s and '_must'_s.

"What is there now?" he muttered, surprising himself by the childish naïvete of the incredibly sentimental question.

Somehow, against all expectations, Luna's response worked to calm him.

"Now there's just life," Luna said simply.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry's office greeted him with a sizable mountain of scrolls and parchments piled up on his desk, just as he had expected. He sucked in a furious breath and stood in front of the pile for a few minutes, bracing himself before he sat down and attempted to tackle it.

"It's not that bad," Ron said almost sympathetically.

"I want to go home," Harry complained.

"You just got here."

"I know. Do you suppose anyone will notice if I just Evanesco these and pretend I never saw them?"

"These," Ron said pointedly, "are interrogation reports. Prisoners we took when we dismantled the last compound."

"I'll review them," Harry said. "What's going on today?"

"Team Leaders' meeting at eleven. Press-conference with the _Prophet_ at three. And Diggory wants to see you before that."

Harry winced. "Kill me."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The cat jumped onto the couch next to Severus and butted his elbow with its head. Severus petted the cat absently, and slowly, his resentment towards Harry began to dissipate, leaving him almost ashamed of his earlier doubts.

Harry had let the cat stay.

Harry had named his own daughter, Lily _Eileen_, after Severus' mother. Not after Molly, not after Ginny, not after Hermione or Luna, but after Severus' mother.

People didn't do that sort of thing unless... they _cared_.

It was difficult to recall what it felt like _to be cared for_ at this point, but Severus was quite certain that it looked something just like this.

The woman in the armchair across from him was reading a thin, hardcover book, paying absolutely no attention to him. Her eyes were scanning the pages with luxurious slowness.

"What did you bring to read?" Severus asked, surprising himself by initiating conversation.

"Muggle poetry," she said, without lifting her eyes to look at him. "You won't like it."

"How do you know?" he asked irritably, for some odd reason itching to pick a fight. Just what in the name of god was _wrong_ with him today? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut and be _grateful_ – like...

"It's very sentimental. You'll loathe every verse."

"Try me," he said dryly. "Couldn't be any worse than sitting like an idiot all day long, staring at Potter's furniture."

"All right. Just don't complain to me when you hate it. I won't listen."

...

_When love beckons to you, follow him,  
Though his ways are hard and steep.  
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,  
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.  
And when he speaks to you believe in him,  
Though his voice may shatter your dreams..._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"My sympathies on your loss."

Harry stared at Diggory blankly for a long moment, until his better sense caught up with him, and he said, "Thank you. I appreciate you giving me the time off. It was helpful."

"Good. I also wanted to let you know that your career isn't going to be affected by the fact that you have accepted Severus Snape into your household. You are still a valuable member of this team, and just because you are a little too naïve for your own good, I'm not going to let you go Harry."

"I knew I couldn't be so lucky," Harry muttered under his breath. He did promise Ron he wouldn't quit, but being let go with a sizable severance pay packet seemed like a fairly good prospect at this point.

"What was that?" Diggory demanded instantly.

"Nothing."

"Now, while you were gone there were two more terrorist attacks. No casualties in either one, but each time it was a close call."

"I see."

"We need a breakthrough, Harry," Diggory said bluntly. "I like you a great deal, but this can't go on. If you are unable to achieve the desired results, our past association aside, I will replace you with someone more capable."

Harry should have been angry about that, but he sensed a measure of truth in the accusatory statement. If he had been more competent about locating and dismantling the Death Eater compounds, perhaps Severus would have been found much sooner.

"I'll figure it out," Harry said simply.

"I certainly hope so."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry spent the rest of the day reviewing the interrogation reports. Ron ditched his team and stayed behind in the office to help him.

"I don't understand," Ron said with a note of despair entering his voice. "How can interrogating twenty-four prisoners render _nothing_ useful?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "Maybe we aren't asking the right questions."

"The questioning seems to have been thorough enough," Ron objected. "The interrogators went by the book."

"Then obviously the book isn't good enough," Harry said firmly, pushing the scrolls aside. "I want to talk to the prisoners myself."

Ron winced a little and whispered something under his breath that nearly made Harry jump out of his skin.

"What!" Harry snapped. "Ron, what did you just say?"

"I said, there are only three of them left alive," Ron said very quietly. "The rest of them were Kissed last week."

"What – already!" Harry found himself almost shouting. "Why?"

"Diggory's orders," Ron explained reluctantly. "They were interrogated, had memories drawn from them, and then they were disposed of, you know, for the sake of world security. He doesn't want a repeat of the mass breakout from Azkaban that we had two years ago..."

Harry issued a deep sigh and clenched his fists, trying to compose himself. He hated, hated the idea of the Dementor's Kiss with a passion, but having it delivered so quickly and summarily, to so many at once? Not that the bastards didn't _deserve_ to die horribly, but still... Harry shut his eyes, longing to be somewhere else – anywhere else.

"Harry?" Ron asked.

"I want to talk to the remaining three," Harry said simply. "As soon as possible. Can you firecall Percy and ask him to get me in?"

"Hmm," Ron mused. "Harry, I don't know, are you sure that's wise for _you_ to be interrogating them? These are the men who'd been torturing Severus..."

Harry's eyes narrowed involuntarily. "So what are you saying, Ron?"

"All I'm saying…you won't do anything stupid, right? Like cast an unauthorized Unforgivable on one of them?**"**

Harry shrugged. "If I do, will you help me dispose of the body?"

"Maybe."

"Good, I'll take a maybe."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Severus was jolted back to reality when he realized that Luna had stopped reading. For the last half an hour he had no longer been following the strange poetry, but had simply got lost in his own thoughts.

"My throat is sore," Luna complained.

"You've read more than enough. Thank you."

She shook her head. "I'm beginning to think poetry is meant to be read out loud. Will you read to me?"

"If you like," he agreed, accepting the book from her.

She shifted in the armchair comfortably and shut her eyes. Tripod jumped off the couch, then onto her lap, curling into himself.

"Read to me, please," Luna asked.

...

_But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed.  
Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.  
It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye.  
You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.  
You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.  
And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.  
For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night. _

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

It wasn't until eleven at night that Harry finally made it home. Luna greeted him by smacking him on the head with a slender hardback book.

"What took you so long?" she demanded.

"Worked until seven. Went to see Lily and Ginny. Then went back to work."

"Oh. That's great," Luna approved.

"It is?"

"Of course. You are ninety-six hours away from having a nervous breakdown. Then you can go on another stress leave and stay with Severus."

Harry chuckled under his breath. "Tell me he isn't sleeping on the floor."

"He isn't sleeping on the floor."

"Did he eat?"

"He ate, he rested, and he read." Luna waved the small book at Harry.

"Really?" Harry's grin couldn't be wider. "Luna! That's amazing. He wouldn't read with me. How did you get him to read?"

Luna grinned back at him. "He may have felt sorry for me."

Luna departed and Harry went upstairs. For a few minutes he stood at the threshold of Severus' bedroom and stared at the bed that the two of them had shared for the last three weeks.

Severus was sound asleep, sprawled across the entire bed, with no space left for Harry. Tripod was sleeping on the pillow next to him, issuing his usual loud, soothing, half snoring and half purring sound.

Harry smiled slightly. Severus was still not quite himself, but he was clearly on the mend. The time of desperate dependency was over, and as far as Harry could tell his physical presence in Severus' bed was no longer needed.

Harry sighed nostalgically at the bittersweet mix of emotions coursing through him: an odd combination of joy, pride and loss all at once. He had felt something like that when Lily took her first steps. He was proud, deliriously happy... and at the same time, there was a tiny pang of regret, because he realized that something had changed forever with those steps, and Lily would never need him the same way again.

Harry smiled again and shut the door quietly, heading to his own bedroom.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

**Author's Note:** Poetry is from Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet"**. **(On Love; On Houses)**  
**


	19. The Nature of Life

**The Nature of Life**

The rest of the week went well. Severus did not seem to mind when Harry migrated back to his own bedroom, and he adjusted to being supervised by others with minimal wariness and discomfort. And that was a very good thing, as come noon this coming Friday, most members of Dumbledore's Army, or rather the Light Brigade, as Hermione had christened them, were planning to assemble at the New Burrow, to Apparate to Hogsmeade together, and then hike to Hogwarts, in order to spend the weekend searching the school for any evidence of Snape's innocence Dumbledore might have left behind.

On Friday Harry made arrangements for Pansy and George to watch Severus while he was gone, and signed off to leave work early so he could join the rest of the group.

Even though Friday was a half-day at work, it was just as stressful as a full day. Ron had made no progress at all attempting to get access to the prisoners taken during the dismantling of the Death Eater compound where Severus had been kept. For that reason, on Friday morning, just before leaving, Harry found himself in a shouting match with Percy. Or rather, Harry was the one shouting through the firecall connection, and Percy was being his usual, irritating, law-abiding self, demanding _why_ Harry wanted to talk to the prisoners _himself_.

"Never fucking mind _why_, just get me in! I'm the Head of the Auror Office..."

"Harry, you know that the field officers who participated in the capture of prisoners are barred from conducting interrogations. Now you are asking me to bend and disregard half a dozen regulations, and I really would like to know _why_, before attempting to..."

"Because the Ministry interrogators did a shitty job, that's why! Twenty prisoners have been interrogated, and we have no new leads, no information, nothing! Tell me, how is that possible?"

"They went by the book..."

"Well, it wasn't good enough, was it? What have we learned? Nothing! Now stop arguing, and get me in!" Harry terminated the firecall connection and slammed his hand against the mantlepiece. He'd likely have to apologize later... but not a damned second before Percy got him a pass into Azkaban.

Just then, the Floo shimmered, indicating a firecall coming in.

"Yes?" Harry said, looking inside.

Pansy Parkinson's face appeared in the hearth. "The Professor is sick," she said. "Maybe you can come over?"

Harry nodded quickly, and stepped into the Floo a moment later.

When Harry got home, Severus was in bed, looking paler than death. His eyes were half-shut, and he was muttering something under his breath. Marietta was already there, watching Severus with concern, and once Harry entered the bedroom she acknowledged him with a small nod.

"Hey," Harry whispered, his eyes fixed on Severus.

"Potter," Severus murmured absently, as his eyes wandered aimlessly. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on you," Harry said softly.

Without warning, the other man's demeanour changed. "Is that so? Why start now?" Severus hissed." "My life meant fuck-all to you before. Why bother now?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but Severus issued a hoarse, choked laugh and turned his face away.

Harry stared at Marietta pleadingly.

"He's running a fever, and his blood pressure is slightly higher than normal," she said softly. "I detect no evidence of infection, no evidence of a curse, or a hex at work," she continued. "Also, there's no brain damage of any kind. However, his mental state is ..." her voice trailed off.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"He's disoriented. He doesn't know what year it is," Marietta said softly. "He has no idea where he his, how old we are, or what's going on. He thinks we are still at war. He was just clawing at his Dark Mark..."

Harry bit his lip. "So, what do we do?"

"I don't know," Marietta said. "I've cast every diagnostic spell in the book. Turned up nothing. I say, watch him, make him comfortable, talk to him. Try to reassure him. Other than that..."

"Right," Harry whispered.

Marietta smiled sadly. "I worked all night, so I am going to get some sleep. I was going to join the others in searching Hogwarts, but now I'm thinking I should stick around this weekend, in case he gets worse. I'm going to send Parkinson and Weasley home for now. I'll also tell the group you won't be joining them. Wake me up if his condition changes, all right?"

"All right," Harry agreed, feeling deliriously grateful. "Thank you."

She left, heading downstairs, and Harry sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Severus. In spite of his best efforts, Severus noticed the movement, and the dark, sunken eyes opened to glower at Harry.

"Potter," Severus muttered. "You again. What are you doing at Grimmauld? No, never mind that, it's just as well that it's you. Help me, Potter. Help me get up. I need to go."

"Er – it's ok," Harry said softly. "You don't need to go anywhere. Just rest, please."

"You don't understand!" Severus snapped impatiently. "I've been summoned. _He _– the Dark Lord _- _ is calling me. I really shouldn't be telling you this, but ... I ... need your help - have to get going..." Severus moved in a desperate and quite unsuccessful attempt to sit up. "Where is my wand? Potter!"

"Sir," Harry spoke gently, instinctively falling back into the old habit, "I know this is hard to believe right now, but ... _He_ is not calling you. _He_ is dead. The war is over."

Severus shook his head with disdain. "Stupid child. He can't be killed. Not like that. You - you don't understand. He - took steps to make himself immortal, he - Dark magic, the very darkest ... It burns... it burns! I can feel him calling. Where's the Headmaster? Potter! Get me Dumbledore! He'll understand... Potter, did you hear me? Get me Dumbledore right now!"

Harry bowed his head, not daring to look up.

"What is it that you aren't telling me?" Severus demanded. "What happened?"

Harry gulped quietly, and forced himself to meet the older wizards troubled, dark gaze. "I'm sorry, sir... Dumbledore is dead."

"Liar!" Severus screamed deliriously, and his hand clenched around Harry's wrist with bruising force. "Liar! How dare you!"

Harry bit his lip but did not make a move to remove his hand from Severus' crushing grip. "I'm very sorry, sir," he said softly. "He touched a cursed object. You did your best for him, but it couldn't be helped."

For a long time, Harry continued to sit next to Severus while he mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath. Eventually, Severus drifted off to sleep, and Harry stretched out on the bed next to him, listening to his uneven breathing that at times sounded almost like sobbing.

The rest of the day was spent with Severus waking briefly, attempting to get up and "respond to the summons," staring at Harry in disbelief, and fading back into unconsciousness. Harry barely managed to coax him to take a few sips of water, but food, or even meal supplements, appeared to be out of the question for the time being. After Severus drifted off following another outburst, Harry reached for Severus' arm and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to take a look at his Dark Mark. The image of the skull and the serpent looked blood-red. Quietly, Harry crept out of the bedroom and went downstairs to talk to Marietta.

"I don't know what to tell you," she murmured, after hearing him out. "Could be that it's psychosomatic... you know, mental anguish expressing itself in physical symptoms. By the way, that would also explain the presence of dissociative amnesia."

Harry stared at her, absorbing her words. "What am I doing wrong?" he asked finally. "I know I fucked up royally with the Patronus thing. But I thought things were going well since then!"

She shifted on the couch, lifted herself on one elbow and smiled at him sleepily.

"Look, Potter, you can't start thinking that way. Even if you make no mistakes, and do everything by the book, he'll still have episodes, tantrums, lapses, and setbacks. And even if you make some mistakes, he'll still get better. The point is, he is in a safe place now, and eventually, his body and mind will realize it, accept it, become accustomed to it, and he'll mend. You know?"

Harry looked at her doubtfully. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely. The human body and mind are incredibly resilient. He'll get better."

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

It was early evening when Severus woke up. His head was resting on something other than a pillow, and he realized quickly that Harry was sitting up in the bed, leaning against the headboard, cradling his head in his lap.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.

His confusion had lifted by then, leaving his mind clear enough to be thoroughly horrified. The entire day seemed like a dreadful, surreal nightmare. He'd imagined he was back at Grimmauld Place... he had been certain he could feel the Mark burning, summoning him... was he going insane? Was his mind finally beginning to succumb to the damage of years and decades? It was a frightening thought.

He wanted to equivocate, to say he was fine, but as he opened his mouth, he realized he had no strength left to bluff. "I don't know," he admitted, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. How long until Harry gave up on him, and sent him away? Harry had said he _cared_ for him, but even caring for one's _family_ had limits. Nobody could be expected to put up with something like this indefinitely.

He stretched out on the bed, and turned away, burying his face in the pillow. Harry's hand rested on his back, stroking it with surprising gentleness.

"It'll be all right, you know," Harry said softly. "I know you hate being sick, but it won't last."

"How do you know that?" Severus challenged, but not in a contentious tone of voice.

"You are alive. It's the nature of life, to mend itself." Harry sounded older and wiser than Severus ever remembered him. "You'll mend."

"What if I don't?" Severus whispered quietly. "I suppose I'll be heading for the psych ward at St. Mungo's. Maybe a month from now I'll be exchanging words with Alice and Frank, not even knowing who they are."

"That won't happen," Harry said softly.

"How do you know that?" Severus demanded.

"Alice and Frank aren't at St. Mungo's," Harry explained calmly. "Neville and Hannah brought them home as soon as the war was over. They aren't with strangers anymore. They are with their family. It's the same with you..."

"It's not the same with me," Severus pointed out, slightly sick of belaboring the obvious, but feeling the need to clarify things. "I'm not your family."

"You are now," Harry said softly, "for as long as you want to be."

It was not in his nature to believe well-meaning promises made so recklessly, but the sensation of Harry's hand resting on his back somehow served to instill faith in the impossible, and Severus allowed himself to indulge in that strange belief, even as he drifted back to sleep.

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

On Saturday morning, Severus woke up to realize that Harry had fallen asleep with him again. They hadn't shared a bed since Monday night, and Severus was slightly taken aback by how much comfort and security the simple fact of Harry's presence imparted to him.

Though this time, it was more than just _presence_. Somehow, during the night, Severus had rolled over towards the center of the bed. As a result, he had ended up sleeping with his back settled against Harry's chest, and with Harry's right arm wrapped around him in a way that somehow seemed incredibly tender, and incredibly protective at once.

Now awake, he was incredibly, stunningly aware of everything: Harry's heartbeat, Harry's breath at the nape of his neck, and Harry's flattened palm resting against his chest, his fingers stroking absently in small, soothing circles. If asked at that moment, Severus would have given anything at all in return for this kind touch: he would have gladly given up his body, soul and mind, whatever was left of them. Except... he could tell that that sort of price would not be exacted this time. The hand resting against his flesh was not _taking_ anything from him, on the contrary, it was _giving_ something with every small, absent touch, and every caress felt like a tiny miracle.

He sensed Harry come awake and shift next to him, becoming aware of their positions and giving him a tiny parting hug before withdrawing. Severus barely managed to suppress a disgruntled sigh when Harry's arm abandoned him.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled sleepily. "I hoped not to wake you."

With his eyes still shut, Severus murmured quietly, "That's all right. I don't mind being awake."

**To Be Continued...**


	20. Lost Souls

**Lost Souls**

They were both still tired, so they took their time getting up. Tripod made it easy for them to linger in bed, as he continued to cling to Severus and Harry, demanding attention.

While Severus petted the cat, Harry looked at him absently, and noticed that Severus' wrist held three dark bruises that were almost an exact copy of the ones on his own hand, the ones that Severus' had left yesterday, when he was grabbing his hand in delirious rage.

"What happened?" Harry asked, before his brain had a chance to kick in. Severus paused slightly before answering, giving Harry a chance to collect his thoughts and remember the pertinent information from Draco's slavery books. "Severus? Is it part of the slave-bond? When I get hurt, you get hurt?"

"Not exactly," Severus answered absently, still petting Tripod. "The spell you'd cast on me tied my life-force to yours in a unique way. I cannot cause you any harm, without inflicting the same damage on myself."

"But you won't feel it if I go ahead and get hurt on my own, right?" Harry clarified anxiously.

"No."

Harry collapsed to lie on his back and shut his eyes, feeling more than slightly uneasy about the whole thing.

He supposed he should have been relieved, as he was quite certain that Severus would never harm him intentionally, but these were hardly the normal circumstances...

Severus was sick. Sick, disoriented people could lash out without meaning to. They shouldn't be penalized for that sort of thing, Harry knew that much.

Harry couldn't count the number of times he himself had woken up in St. Mungo's after being injured in the line of duty, flailing his arms in disorientation, landing an unintentional punch or a smack on whoever was at his side, sometimes a healer, sometimes Ron or Ginny or Hermione. Each time, they took it in stride. Bottom line, he knew it was _safe_ for him to be sick.

"You are troubled," Severus observed.

"Kind of," Harry admitted. "I've been meaning to ask you more about the bond, by the way. You don't have to tell me anything," Harry added quickly, "but I think it'd be helpful if I knew more about the spell I cast on you, and the way it connected us. I wouldn't want to hurt you inadvertently, and I promise I won't use the information against you in any way."

A long silence ensued, while Severus apparently considered Harry's words. "I believe you," he said finally. "What do you want to know?"

"What are the magical parameters of the bond?"

"As I said, it retaliates, if I cause you any harm," Severus repeated. "The spell was designed to ensure the subject's loyalty."

"Hmm," Harry muttered. He felt slightly awkward asking the next question, and tried to recall Ginny's words exactly before he did. "Er- Ginny guessed that the bond gives me access to your central nervous system. Is this why my physical touch calms you?"

"The bond does give you access to my central nervous system," Severus confirmed. "However, that said, your touch calms me because it is apparently your _intent_ to calm me. Physical contact allows you to assume control over my primary emotions. If you so desire, you can make me feel anything you like: fear, anxiety, panic, revulsion, and so on. For as long as the physical contact is maintained, in any case."

Harry issued a deep sigh. This part of the physical bond sounded perfectly dreadful, he thought. To have control over someone else's emotional state … he couldn't think of too many things that were more dangerous, and could be abused more easily.

"I wouldn't do that intentionally," Harry said quickly, "but it's good to know. I'll be careful. Is there anything else?"

"No."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly troubled and somewhat relieved at once. "Look... can you think of a way to reverse this spell?" Harry asked. "I mean, once we prove your innocence, the legal issues can be worked out, but the magical and emotional aspects of the bond require a counterspell, don't they?

"None that I can think of," Severus said, standing up abruptly, "but then again, I'm out of practice."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

When they both made it downstairs, Marietta, who had spent the entire night on Harry's couch, was already up. She examined them both quickly, asked Severus a few questions to ensure his disorientation had passed, and grinned.

"Looks like you're on the mend," she said brightly. "I'll be on my way then."

"What's the hurry? Join us for breakfast," Harry suggested. She looked surprised by the offer, but nodded.

"I don't eat breakfast, but I'll take tea if you've got it," she said.

They had tea together, and Severus and Harry ate some of Hannah's Leaky Cauldron 'slop', as Harry had privately begun to call it. After breakfast, Severus went back to his bedroom to lie down, leaving Marietta and Harry alone.

"Potter, do you want to go join the group?" Marietta asked. "I can spend the weekend with Severus if you want to go to Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want to leave him now," he said. "He was just so sick..."

She nodded quietly, appearing to be deep in thought.

"By the way, I wanted to ask your advice," Harry added. "I know his magical ability is repressed for now, but would it help if I got him a wand anyway? I don't want to push him or anything..."

"I think it's a good idea," she said. "He might get frustrated if he keeps flicking it without any results, but in the long term, I'd say it'll do more good than harm. It'll help focus the magical energy, once it begins to re-emerge. Without a wand, it'll likely come out in disorganized, uncontrolled bursts, which might unsettle him, if he doesn't expect it."

"All right," Harry said. "I'll order a wand from Ollivander. I am sure he still has Snape's measurements and profile..."

Marietta grinned. "Yes, and the man doesn't even keep good records. Everything is in his brain. Kind of scary, actually."

Harry nodded in agreement. "By the way, I can't thank you enough for spending the night here. Marietta, I don't know if you realize how much I appreciate your help."

She shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I'd do this for any patient who had gotten the short end of the proverbial stick."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I know that. Still, once the dust settles down a bit, let me take you out to dinner."

The highly inadequate token of gratitude appeared to have taken her by surprise. She stared at Harry with undisguised astonishment for a few seconds, and then, her lips formed an amused smirk. "Not afraid to ruin your stellar reputation by being seen with a traitor in public, Potter?"

"Terrified," Harry said dryly, feeling incredibly troubled by what her words were implying. Did she really have no friends left? Were her colleagues and friends embarrassed to hang out with her? "How about this coming Thursday, at six? Luna can watch Severus, and I'll pick you up at your place."

"Fine," Marietta said, looking a little dazed. "Whatever."

She departed quickly after that, leaving Harry to brood about the unfairness of the post-war wizarding world yet again.

The weekend was spent quietly and peacefully, until Sunday evening arrived and Hermione firecalled, telling Harry that Molly and Arthur were on their way to watch Severus, and he needed to get to the Burrow. Harry departed as soon as his parents-in-law had arrived, eager to hear any good news.

However, once he stepped out of the Floo into the living room of the Burrow, the despondent faces of his friends eloquently informed him of the dearth of good news.

Harry sighed deeply and looked around, taking note of everyone present. All the members of the Light Brigade were there, except for Draco. But even before he had a chance to voice surprise over Draco's absence, Ginny spoke up.

"Nothing," Ginny spat furiously. "We found nothing."

"Well, then you've missed something," Harry said bluntly. "We'll go back next weekend together and..."

Next to Neville, Hannah Longbottom issued a muffled sob. Harry fell silent for a moment, taking in the despondent expression on everybody's faces.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"McGonagall," Hermione explained. "Someone told the Board of Governors we were there, and why... there was an emergency meeting of the Board this afternoon. She was accused of allowing unauthorized persons in the school, jeopardizing students' safety, and …. she was dismissed from the post, Harry... The school is closed to us."

"Fuck," Harry whispered, as his fist clenched into a tight ball. "So we got her fired, and we have nothing to show for it."

"That about covers it," Ron confirmed dryly. "All right, any other bright ideas, anyone?"

"Assassinate Diggory?" Pansy asked helpfully, with just a touch of venom in her voice.

"Not funny," Ron denied, but his lips were twitching into an amused smirk.

"Be serious, people," Ginny urged. "We need a new plan."

"New plan?" Blaise echoed with obvious disdain. "We are looking for something that's probably not even there. For all we know, Dumbledore didn't leave anything behind. So, short of resurrecting him from the dead..."

"Well, that's exactly what we are going to do then," Harry said, as a quick flash of inspiration finally graced him. "We just need to find the Resurrection Stone."

The Slytherins stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"What do you mean, find it?" Pansy asked finally. "Where is it?"

"Er, it was lost, sort of," Harry explained. "I dropped it, back in the Forbidden Forest, when Voldemort was about to cast the Killing Curse on me."

"You _dropped_ it," Blaise repeated incredulously. "A Deathly Hallow was in your possession, and you just _dropped_ it? What, are you daft or something?"

Harry shrugged defensively. "I believed I was going to die, remember? I didn't think it would be a good idea for Voldemort to get his hands on the Stone, all right?"

The expression of irritation on Blaise's face was replaced with genuine awe. "You were walking to your death, and you had the presence of mind to think about protecting the Resurrection Stone from Voldemort?"

Harry shrugged again. "That's not the point. The point is, we should go back to the Forest and find the Stone."

Pansy gave Harry a dubious glance. "It's been seven years... the soil could have shifted... anything could have happened in seven years!"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Ginny exclaimed in frustration. "So what if the soil shifted? We'll comb every inch of the forest if we have to. Do you want to brood about what could have happened, or do you want to look for the Stone?"

"Of course I want to look for the Stone!" Pansy said softly.

"Then why are you arguing?" Ginny demanded.

"I'm not arguing," Pansy denied. "I guess I'm just nervous. It feels like it's our last hope, you know?"

"I know," Ginny conceded. "But don't start sulking just yet. We won't give up until we fix this. I promise. All right?"

"All right," Pansy said quietly. "Thanks."

The group disbanded shortly after that. Harry went to see Lily, while Hermione, Ron and Ginny lingered in the living room. When he returned, Hermione and Ron were still there.

"Where's Malfoy, I wonder," Hermione mused. "He didn't show up, didn't answer my firecalls..."

"Fuck Malfoy," Ginny quickly dismissed. "Good riddance, I say."

"No, something's up. He didn't show up to watch Severus on Monday," Harry remembered. "Maybe we should check on him."

Ron rolled his eyes. "He's just being a prat. Ignore him, and he'll come around on his own."

"No, I think Harry is right, we should check on him," Hermione said. "Why don't we go right now?"

"Fine," Ron grumbled.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, you three go ahead. Enjoy. Harry, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Harry said with a smile, and gave her a quick hug. "Good night, Ginny."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry, Ron and Hermione Apparated together at the boundary of the Manor and began to walk towards the old Malfoy home that had grown dilapidated over the past seven years, but still bore some traces of its former glory. Five minutes later, they stopped at the doorway, and Harry knocked loudly. There was no answer, and Harry knocked again.

"I hate this fucking place so much," Hermione murmured, shivering uncomfortably. Ron wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Do you want to go back home?" he offered.

"No, I don't want to go back home!" Hermione said with annoyance. "I want to get this over with. Harry, knock again, and if he doesn't answer, kick the door in!"

"Er, it's probably warded," Harry pointed out.

"Oh for crying out loud, are you an Auror or not? How hard is it to break into a private home?" Hermione demanded, clearly growing more irritated by the second.

Harry opened his mouth to argue some more, but just as he did, the door of the Manor swung open. Draco stood at the doorway, scowling at them.

"What?" he snapped. "Can't you three take _no_ for an answer?"

"We wanted to make sure you were still alive," Ron said sardonically. "For some unfathomable reason, Harry and Hermione actually _care_."

"Well, thanks for caring," Draco said without any gratitude in his voice. "As you can see, I'm alive. You can leave now."

Harry looked at Draco thoughtfully. Draco was undeniably alive, but he was also undeniably unwell. He had lost a few pounds since the last time Harry saw him. His face was covered in red blotches, and his eyes were bloodshot. Had he been sick? Had he been _crying_?

"What's going on?" Harry demanded, intent on finding out the truth. "You didn't show up to watch Severus on Monday. Why?"

"I had things to do."

"What kind of things?" Harry pressed.

"None of your business."

"Actually it is our business, if it interferes with your commitment to help Snape," Hermione said coldly. "He needs stability, and people he can count on, not someone who will bail on him for no reason. So unless you explain yourself to my satisfaction, I'm taking you off the schedule until further notice."

"No!" Draco said instantly. "Don't take me off. Just give me a week. I'll be back after that."

Hermione frowned at him. "A week?" she repeated, not budging for a moment. "Were you even going to tell us that you needed to take another week off, or were you just going to not show at the last moment?"

Draco sighed. "I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't thinking. Look – mother and I have been trying to go to Azkaban and see my father, but the Ministry canceled the visit. Said he was sick, some highly contagious disease. That's why I didn't show. I kept trying to get in and see him. That's all."

"All right," Harry muttered, feeling slightly mollified by Draco's explanation. "Why didn't you join the group to search Hogwarts?"

"I was sick," Draco said uncomfortably. "Stress, I guess. But I'll be ok."

Hermione nodded slowly. "You still look like shit. You should go to St. Mungo's, check yourself out."

"Maybe I will," Draco conceded. "Well, er - thanks for stopping by. Good night."

"Wait," Harry said softly, as Draco was about to shut the door. "Do you want me to help? I can ask what's going on and help arrange the visit if you like..."

Draco smiled mirthlessly. "Thanks, Potter, but it's kind of late for that."

"Huh?" Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"He died on Friday night," Draco said in a shockingly normal voice.

Behind him, Hermione issued a quiet gasp. Harry opened his mouth to offer automatic words of sympathy, but Draco shot him a murderous look and said, "Don't bother, Potter. Just leave me alone."

The Manor's door slammed shut, separating them from Draco.

**To Be Continued...**


	21. Past Tense

**Past Tense**

On Monday morning, Severus awoke with a start. He was alone in his bed again, with only the cat who was curled up next to him, snoring quietly. He sat up abruptly and looked around, slightly disoriented. Following Severus' descent into temporary madness, Harry had spent two more nights with him, before abandoning him again.

Well, maybe _abandoning_ was too strong a word for it, Severus corrected himself instantly. Adults didn't sleep in the same bed, unless they were romantically involved, or unless it was necessary due to a crisis of some sort. Severus smiled hesitantly, understanding that Harry no longer considered him to be _in crisis_. This was a good sign, he supposed, even if solitude felt extremely unwelcome at this point. For a brief second, his treacherous mind considered _generating_ some sort of crisis, if only to regain his Master's presence, but he pushed the thought away quickly. _This_ was normal. _This_ was... probably better. Or was it? He couldn't tell. He only knew that he missed waking up next to someone who _cared_ for him_,_ at least in some form.

He walked downstairs. Harry had already gone to work, and Luna was there in his place. She looked at Severus with a slightly sad smile.

"Lucius died," she informed him by the way of greeting.

"Oh." He was surprised how little emotion that piece of news evoked. He supposed he should have felt something akin to regret, at least for Draco's sake, and Narcissa's, but even those attachments appeared to have faded into the background. Although Severus knew that Draco was quietly helping him, along with the rest of his former students, he hadn't seen his godson yet, and he had begun to wonder if Draco was avoiding him.

His new life seemed to contain Harry, Luna, Marietta, the three-legged cat, and to a lesser extent, a handful of former students who'd dropped by to look after him.

"What are you reading?" Severus asked.

"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," she said, paging through a thin paperback. "Do you miss your books?"

"No," he said gruffly, and to his surprise, he meant it. He felt remarkably disconnected from all reminders of his old life, as if they had stopped holding any meaning for him altogether.

"Well, you should miss them, I think," Luna advised him. "In fact, we should go and pick them up."

"Pick them up," he repeated, quite certain he'd misheard, or misunderstood. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your old house. We should go there to pick up your books," she said patiently, as if talking to a small child.

"Who owns my old house now?" he asked, slightly bewildered by the revelation that it was still there, and at least some of his old possessions remained intact.

"Nobody. Well, technically, Harry does, but he just kept it as it was. He didn't let anyone touch it. Sentimental reasons, I suppose," Luna mused. "He didn't tell you?"

Severus shook his head. "No. I imagine he didn't want to overwhelm me," Severus added sourly. "God knows, I haven't responded rationally to good news, or kind gestures, over the last month."

Luna gave him a quirky grin. "So I've heard. Well, let's go get your books."

Severus gave her a hesitant glance. "I'm not certain I'm supposed to..."

"I promise I won't get you into trouble," Luna assured him. "I know Harry. He won't be upset by this."

"What if he is?" Severus asked, dismayed by the prospect. He was surprised at how comfortable he had gotten in Harry's home over the last several weeks, and he didn't want to do anything to disrupt his newfound comfort and safety.

Luna shrugged unrepentantly, standing up, and picking up her knapsack. "Then I suppose you'll get to clean the cellar again, and get another cat. I'd say it's well worth the risk. Shall we go?"

"All right," Severus said, following her to the Floo.

"So tell me," Luna asked as they were about to depart, "are you going to be rational with me today?"

"Yes," Severus promised solemnly.

Luna's eyes were bright with mischief. "Pity."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

His old house was just as he'd left it: in a state of minor disrepair, with books filling the shelves of the sitting room, the potions ingredients in the lab... nothing had been touched. Everything was there. For a few long minutes, he simply stood stood in front of the bookshelves in silence, and his eyes darted from one book to another. He shivered slightly, as old memories flooded him. Writing... teaching... designing new spells...working on potions recipes - those things seemed to belong to a different lifetime. He ran his fingertips over the back of one of the books, leaving trails in the thick layer of dust collected on it.

"We can take all of them," Luna said, placing her knapsack in his hands. "Undetectable Extension Charm. Would you like me to pack them for you?"

"Yes, please," Severus said simply, and Luna proceeded to cast a Scourgify to remove the dust, and send the books into the seemingly bottomless knapsack. On an impulse, Severus also asked her to collect his potions ingredients and brewing equipment. Even though it could take a while for his magic to reemerge, he suddenly realized that he wanted to take them. Maybe it was a hoarding instinct, as if having been deprived of everything for seven years, he now desperately wanted to take everything that was his, and keep it nearby. He cast a cautious glance at Luna, half-expecting her to mock him, but she just continued to pack his belongings with stunning efficiency.

He wandered into his old bedroom afterwards, and cast a glance at his bed. Over seven years since he'd slept in it – and there it was... The bed was made, but not the way he used to make it – the bedspread was folded neatly, with the corners carefully tucked in.

"Someone slept here," Severus pointed out, surprised by how little it mattered.

"Harry did," Luna said. "Just once. When the war was over. Hermione stayed with him," she added matter-of-factly.

Severus nodded absently. He remembered Harry telling him something about being upset, crying, and Hermione comforting him. Was it _here_? For some reason, he wanted to think that it was.

"I'm done," Severus said. "Shall we head home?"

Luna picked up her charmed knapsack and tossed it over her shoulder. "What's the hurry?" she said. "The day is young."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

After their brief visit to Spinner's End, Luna dragged him out to Diagon Alley. It felt odd to be out and about, and he felt momentarily disoriented and unnerved by being outside, with people bustling about, casting curious glances at Luna, and staring at Severus with half-hostile, half-amused, knowing smiles.

He felt his cheeks flame instantly. He wondered _what_ they knew... _how much_ they knew. For a few moments he felt as if his entire life was on display, with everyone knowing absolutely everything about him, and despising him for it. A wave of sheer, visceral panic washed over him, and he wondered if he should be adding _agoraphobia_ to his long list of dysfunctions. He took a moment to sort through the flood of anxious thoughts and come to a quick conclusion. People were sneering because he was a Death Eater, slave-bonded to Harry Potter. It was doubtful they knew anything else.

Luna tugged on his sleeve gently.

"You're doing fine," she whispered, as if trying to coax a feral cat. "I want to do some shopping. Would you like to come with me, or wait for me someplace quiet?"

"Someplace quiet," he said instantly, and she grinned.

"I knew you were going to say that," she said.

He followed her to the doors of a five-storey establishment that he instantly identified by the sign as the former Leaky Cauldron, which appeared to have been rebuilt from scratch.

"I'm going to leave you with Hannah for a few hours," Luna said. "How does that sound?"

"That's fine," Severus said stiffly, not wanting to be a burden, but uncertain how the Longbottoms would respond to Luna dropping him off at their doorstep.

As if sensing his thoughts, Luna gave him a quick smile, and then the door of the pub opened to them.

Hannah Longbottom saw them and smiled. "Professor, Luna! Come in!"

"Only the Professor is coming in," Luna said, nudging him inside. "I've got some errands to run, and some shopping to do." Luna's bright eyes fixed on Severus. "I'll pick you up in a couple of hours, all right?"

He nodded with growing uncertainty, and Luna departed quickly, before he could change his mind.

Hannah smiled at him again. "Well, come on in, make yourself at home. Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat?"

"I haven't got any money," he said, realizing that courtesy probably required him to order something, if he were going to spend two hours in her pub.

"That's not what I asked," Hannah protested. "I asked if you were hungry."

"I'm not hungry."

"All right. Does not having money bother you?"

He was taken aback by her question. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, in that case, would you like to make some? I have a job that needs to be done. It requires skilled hands and attention to detail. I can pay five galleons per hour, and it should take about two hours to complete. Are you interested?"

He shrugged, uncertain of what to say. Normal human interactions had always been somewhat of a mystery to him, and now, after seven years of hell, with the slave-bond in place, they had become doubly so. All of the reassuring conversations with Harry aside, Severus still only had a very vague concept of what was actually _expected_ of him. The idea of trying his hand at something was appealing, but he found himself wondering how Harry might react to that. Would he think Severus was being ungrateful by accepting this offer? He knew Harry was eagerly waiting for his magic to re-emerge. Would he be disappointed that Severus was doing _this_, as opposed to something else?

Hannah Longbottom was waiting for him to make up his mind: waiting with a patience he hadn't thought human beings were capable of, until he became reacquainted with Harry Potter.

"I'll try," he told her, and she beamed at him.

"Wonderful. Come on," she said, leading the way upstairs.

It turned out that the Leaky Cauldron had a sizable roof-top garden, with several large raised flower-beds, and a multitude of pots with various shrubs and herbs.

The air was fresh, fresher than it should have been, given their location in the heart of London. There was no hint of pollution, and no traffic noise – the silence was only punctuated by the buzzing of several bees that were making their way from one flower to the next.

"Neville designed it," Hannah explained. "He put up the charms to block the pollution and the city noise. Seemed like a good idea to grow some of our own herbs and such. But take a look at this -" Severus' eyes followed the direction of her hand, to encounter a disorganized heap of small containers, filled with miscellaneous starter plants. "Our supplier just dropped them off like that, without explaining what they were, how to care for them, or anything. Would you mind sorting them? I really don't want Neville to come home to this mess."

"That's fine," Severus said quietly. "I'll know what they are."

"Good. There's a notebook and a quill somewhere in the mess." She deposited an enormous bottle of water in his hands. "You should drink plenty while you work. The heat will be murderous."

She left quickly, and he made his way to the enormous pile of tiny starter plants, some of which had already begun to wilt. It took him a good hour to sort through them all, and make detailed notes.

The sun continued to climb in the sky. Severus lifted his face and shut his eyes, allowing the pleasant warmth to wash over him. He couldn't remember the last time he did that. It wasn't an exaggeration, he genuinely couldn't remember. He had a habit of spending most of his time at Hogwarts inside, in his dungeons. It used to be his space, a controlled environment that he found comfortable and comforting. His neighborhood at Spinner's End didn't invite one to lounge in sunlight either, and Severus rarely ventured outside, unwilling to draw attention to himself. He wondered if the years spent indoors made him look like a half-wilted plant, that had been deprived of sunlight for too long.

Either way, he thought, _this_ was wonderful. For a few minutes, he was tempted to simply kick back and relax – but then, his attention returned to the neatly organized rows of starter-plants that likely wouldn't survive another day in their all-too-small containers with dried out soil.

He decided that rather than allowing them to sit and wilt, he could take the initiative and plant them into the empty flower-beds that seemed already prepared specifically for that purpose. On an impulse, he sank his hands into the fresh soil, savoring the texture with his hands. It felt – alive, somehow.

He felt a dampness around his eyes, and a moment later, unbidden tears streamed down his cheeks.

He hadn't cried in the last few years of his captivity. He hadn't cried when he was rescued, or when he thought Harry was about to punish him, or send him away. He hadn't cried when Luna's little cat adopted him, or when he visited his old home. Yet now, left alone in an oddly quiet unfamiliar place, with no-one watching him, he somehow felt safe to do so. He allowed himself a few minutes of blissful frailty, before collecting himself, wiping his face with his sleeve and setting to work once again.

When Hannah came to visit him an hour and a half later, he had finished his work. All the starter plants now had a home in the flower beds, and he had cataloged all of them, along with listing fertilizing potions that would be beneficial for each herb.

Hannah seemed absolutely dumbfounded, and for a few minutes he wondered if he'd overstepped his boundaries. Maybe he should have just followed her instructions to the letter, rather than attempting to show off? He darted a cautious look in her direction, and she grinned at him.

"That was fast! You are worth your weight in gold, you know."

He stared down, suddenly becoming very much aware of his emaciated form, that made his clothing look baggy on him.

"It seems that's not very much these days," he pointed out dryly.

Hannah stared at him sadly for a split-second, before bursting into laughter.

"Well, after all this work, you must be famished," she said with conviction. "I say it's time we dispensed with the pseudo-food and got you started on the real thing, hmm?"

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

When Harry returned home late in the evening, Luna was waiting for him in the kitchen, with her hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea.

"How's he doing?" Harry asked.

"I wore him out," Luna said with obvious pride. "He's sleeping with a wand under his pillow."

"Good," Harry approved. "What kind of wand did Ollivander come up with for him?"

"Rowan wood, with the core of dragon heartstring."

"Dragon heartstring," Harry said softly. "Just like his old wand."

"Different wood this time," Luna reminded him. "Rowan is used for protection from storms and harmful enchantments. And healing. Did you know druids used it for rune staves, and dowsing rods?"

Harry shook his head. What he didn't know about wandlore could easily fill a library. "What else did you get him?" Harry asked.

"I bought him a yoga mat and a set of free weights, in case he wants to exercise," Luna said. "Also Hannah got him started on proper food, and that went well. Now, are you ready for this? I got him a job."

"What?"

"Hannah hired him to take care of her rooftop garden. He enjoyed himself. He's going to work for her Tuesdays and Thursdays. Two hours a day. Provided you approve, of course," she added wryly.

Harry grinned from ear to ear. "Luna, you are a miracle worker. Remind me to never doubt you again."

His gaze fell on the kitchen table, where he saw a large white envelope, with his name written in Snape's unmistakable pointy scrawl.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"His earnings," Luna explained calmly. "He told me to give them to you."

Harry opened the envelope. Ten galleons lay inside, gleaming brightly in the dusk of the room. He winced at the sight. It seemed that Severus never ran out of things to do to twist his heart.

"His first earnings in seven years, and he gave them to me?" Harry muttered. "I suppose he doesn't think he's got a right to keep them. I'll give them back to him tomorrow morning."

Luna shook her head. "You shouldn't," she told him. "I think it's just his way of saying _thank you_."

"Oh." Harry shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Luna's interpretation of Severus' actions should have made him feel better, but it didn't. If anything, it made him feel positively worse. "He shouldn't be _thanking_ me," Harry whispered dejectedly, as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. "It's not normal! I fucked up. I ruined his life. He should hate me..."

Luna smiled sadly. "I realize that it'd make you feel better if he started berating you and scolding you. But life is a complicated thing, Harry. We don't always get what we want. I suppose at this point, you'll have to settle for him liking you, and being grateful."

Harry chuckled softly, as somehow, Luna's words managed to reassure him yet again.

"See you Thursday night," Luna said, standing up. "I understand you have a date with Marietta."

"I'm not dating Marietta!" Harry protested instantly.

"Well if you won't, I will," Luna warned. "Somebody should. She seems lonely."

**To Be Continued...**


	22. Growing Pains

**Growing Pains**

"You look nice," Ginny observed when Harry dropped by on Thursday evening to spend some time with her. "What are you up to?"

"I'm taking Marietta out to dinner," Harry said. He knew it wasn't a compliment to his personality that he felt something akin to smug satisfaction when a hint of jealously crossed Ginny's face.

"I see," Ginny said neutrally. "That's a new development, I take it?"

"Oh, not at all, I've been fucking her behind your back for the last three years," Harry said with a smirk.

Ginny laughed quietly and shook her head.

"I rarely know when to take you seriously, and when to wonder," she said.

"Well, you needn't worry," Harry assured her magnanimously. "My heart is big enough for both of you."

She snickered under her breath.

"Seriously, it's not like that," Harry said in a more serious tone of voice. "We are just friends. And – if it helps, she doesn't see blokes that way."

"Fine," Ginny said. "Are you coming with us to search the Forbidden Forest tomorrow?"

"Yes, I booked a day off work," Harry said. "I wish we had thought of it sooner."

"Me too," Ginny said. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask, does Accio work on the Stone?"

"No," Harry said. "I went to the Forest shortly after everything was over. Tried to summon it, but had no success. I figure there must be anti-summoning charms on it. I thought about looking for it, but then decided against it. Thought maybe it'd be better if it just remained lost."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"It just seemed right. Out of the three Deathly Hallows, it's the one that could most easily be abused. I mean... It blurs the line between life and death. I don't really know how to explain it, but... just a gut feeling, you know?"

"Not really," Ginny said softly, "but for what it's worth, I hope we find it."

"Me too," Harry said sincerely. He shut his eyes blissfully, daring to hope that the end of Severus' misadventures was in sight. Ginny came up to him and planted a tiny kiss on his chin.

"Lily is napping," she said. "I'll go wake her. But I have to warn you, she'll want to play Exploding Snap."

Four games of Exploding Snap later, Harry finally noticed the time, realized he was running late, and made a rushed exit, hugging Lily goodbye, and giving Ginny a parting kiss.

Once he Apparated to Marietta's neighborhood, it took him a good ten minutes to find her place, making him worry that she might decide he had changed his mind.

Eventually he located her home, a small two-storey house that seemed to be begging for a new paint job. Harry knocked on the door and waited. A minute later, Marietta came out. She was dressed in casual slacks and a simple tee-shirt, holding a mug of hot chocolate in her hand. A brief shadow of astonishment crossed her face, but she managed to suppress it.

"Hi, Harry," she said, stepping aside.

"Hi," Harry said, noticing her comfortable appearance. "You seem surprised to see me."

"A little," she said guardedly. "Come in though."

"Why are you surprised? I'm only a few minutes late," Harry said, following her inside. The sitting room of her house was a disarray of papers, books and scrolls, as if she really wasn't expecting any company.

"Never thought you were going to show at all," she said matter-of-factly. "Thought it was just a nice gesture." It wasn't said with any self-pity or accusation, but Harry couldn't help but feel taken aback by her nonchalant admission. But he also suspected that making a fuss over her confession would be a mistake.

"Well, I'm here now," Harry said lightheartedly. "Do you still want to go out, or do you want to hang out here?"

She thought about it for a few moments. "Let's stay here," she said finally. "Being seen with me in public won't do your reputation any good."

"I don't give a fuck about my reputation!" Harry snapped, irritated no end by the fact that it always seemed to come down to that.

"You should," she said bluntly. "Your reputation, shabby as it is these days, is the only thing that's keeping Snape out of Azkaban. You realize if the public opinion turns against you, or if your loyalty is brought into question, the Ministry will take him away from you faster than you can say _Imperio_?"

Harry scowled at her and grumbled an unintelligible obscenity under his breath, causing Marietta to snicker.

"Don't sulk, Harry. Are you hungry?"

"Kind of," he said, feeling ridiculously happy that he had somehow ceased being _Potter_ to her, and became _Harry_.

"Me too. I'm going to make something. Come to the kitchen, keep me company."

"All right," Harry agreed, following her inside.

The kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes. Marietta pulled a frying pan out of the mess, cast a quick Scourgify spell on it, and deposited it on the stove-top.

"Chicken and vegetables all right?" she asked.

"Just great," Harry said sincerely. "It's been a while since someone cooked for me, you know."

"A month and a half constitutes _a while_ for you?" she enquired with undisguised amusement.

"Try five years," Harry said with a grin. "Ginny stopped cooking as soon as her Quidditch career took off."

"Oh dear. No wonder you're so..."

"Don't say thin," Harry grumbled.

"I was going to say self-sufficient," she replied.

Harry snickered. "That's me. Completely self-sufficient. Don't need anyone else."

She chuckled quietly. "You miss her, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry whispered. "Mind you, we still see each other almost every day, but..."

"You miss having a partner," Marietta said gently. "It's hard to get used to being alone, after six years of marriage. It'll be even harder once Snape moves out," she added as an afterthought.

"Hmm? What way?" Harry asked, feeling oddly self-conscious.

"Well, then it'll be just you and the cat," she pointed out.

"Unless he takes the cat with him," Harry said grimly. "What about you? Do you live alone?"

"Live with my mum," Marietta said. "She's away this week on Ministry business, but she's home most of the time."

"What does she do?" Harry asked.

"Some boring stuff for the Department of Public Health. Record-keeping, archiving."

"Oh. Well, that sucks."

"She loves it."

"That's good then," Harry said, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden. "What about your dad? What does he do?"

"Don't know, don't care," Marietta said. "Last time I saw him was five years ago."

"Are they divorced?"

"No, but they might as well be. He's been in and out of our lives since I was five. He usually took off when mum got sick, or stressed. He doesn't like needy people, or taking care of them," Marietta said with just a touch of derision in her voice.

"Well, good riddance then," Harry said, as his mind reeled at Marietta's words. For all their fights, he couldn't imagine bailing on Ginny while she was sick. That was... simply inconceivable.

He also wondered if that was the reason Marietta was so fiercely protective of her mother.

"Yes. Exactly. Good riddance," Marietta confirmed with little to no inflection in her voice. She combined the pieces of diced chicken with some sort of bottled sauce, added a dash of spice, and turned the hot-plate on.

Harry watched her quietly for a few minutes, as she deposited the meat into the frying pan, washed her hands thoroughly and dried them. Seeming to be aware of being observed, she ran her hand through her messy hair absently, but made no attempt to gather it up into her usual, sloppy ponytail.

"I like your hair this way," Harry said, privately wondering if he was overstepping a boundary, or if the statement was going to be taken the wrong way. "I'm not trying to hit on you," he added quickly, "but it really looks nice. Frames your face very well. You should wear it like this more often."

Her back stiffened slightly, and for a moment Harry fully expected her to say something spiteful, but to his surprise, she simply said gently, "What would be the point?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Mind you, I don't have much experience with same-sex dating but... you'd turn heads."

"Unlikely," she murmured. "Not with my history. But thank you for the vote of confidence regardless."

"Are you telling me you don't date... at all?" Harry clarified, slightly stunned.

"Who would I date, Harry?" she intoned softly, turning to face him. "Or more to the point, who would date _me_? A war hero? Or a defeated Voldemort supporter?"

"There've got to be some ordinary people around," Harry protested.

"None that would be eager to admit to it," Marietta said with a wry smile. "But enough about me. You said you don't have _much_ experience with same-sex dating, does that mean you have _some_?"

Harry grinned a little. "I wouldn't call it dating, exactly, more like..." he paused a little, unsure what to say without sounding crude.

"Shagging?" she supplied helpfully.

"Mmhmm." He was sure he was blushing in a dreadful way. "After the war Ginny and I broke up briefly. She wanted a time-out, and I started hanging out with... well, doesn't matter who ..."

She was looking at him speculatively. "Do I know him?"

"It was Lee," Harry said quietly.

"Ah," she said with a mischievous smile.

Harry grinned as well. "We had a wonderful time. We just went camping for two months, and did absolutely nothing, other than... well, you know."

"I know," she agreed. "And...?"

"Well, two months later, we went back to civilization, and it sort of... ended. Like, it seemed that what we had wasn't the same anymore, once we came back to normal life. And Ginny was pregnant, and still had feelings for me, and – well, one thing led to another, and everything fell into place."

For some reason he expected her to make fun of him, but she simply nodded and said quietly, "Makes sense."

She proceeded to chop up and combine the vegetables with the chicken. Harry made a move to assist her, but she shook her head. "You'll just get in the way," she said. "It's really not a big deal."

Soon enough, the warm aroma of vegetables filled the kitchen and Harry smiled. Done with the cooking for the moment, Marietta turned her attention to Harry once again.

"I heard about Lucius," she said.

"Yeah." Harry felt a stab of regret, and banished it as quickly as he could, but not quickly enough.

"I thought you loathed him," Marietta said, clearly noticing the change in Harry's expression.

"I did. I do... but..." Harry shrugged. "I hate the bastard. He nearly got Ginny killed. I don't forgive something like that. But still... I had spent six months getting them to overturn his sentence. Not because I cared about him, but... you know, for Narcissa's sake, and Draco's, and because I just think the Dementor's Kiss is a dreadful thing. And now... well, I never cared for him at all, but I still feel like..." Harry shrugged helplessly, obviously unable to find the words for how it had _felt_ to hear the news.

"Like you lost a patient," Marietta supplied thoughtfully.

"Right," Harry agreed. "You must know... or do you? I mean, have you ever... lost a patient?"

She smiled without happiness. "Sadly, no," she said very quietly. "I'm too clever for my own good, or so I've been told."

Harry looked at her uncomprehendingly, and noticed that her eyes were moist.

"Mari?" he asked. "What is it?"

She bit her lip and stared down. "Long story," she whispered. "Very stupid, too."

"Tell me," he offered.

"There was a raid on one of the Death Eater compounds," Marietta said. "One of them... not a Death Eater, but part of the criminal organization, a young one, barely nineteen, had been struck with a hex from an Auror that had burned away at his lungs. It was dreadful to watch... even with the numbing potion, he couldn't take a single breath without being in absolute agony. But he couldn't just will himself to stop breathing either, you know? My supervisor told me to just let him die... and..."

"And you did?" Harry asked without any accusation in his voice.

"Of course not," Marietta said bitterly. "See, I decided I was going to save him. I was so angry about it. I fought my supervisor. Threw the book at him and won. And as for the patient... I used complex healing spells to deliver oxygen to his brain and organs, and ... then, I started working on a special potion, loosely based on the Polyjuice formula, something that would allow us to create a brand new set of lungs for him. I took me three weeks to brew it... and then, it worked. Two days after the potion was administered, he could breathe again, on his own. He was alive and stable." She smiled unhappily. "Ravenclaw to the end, I was so proud that... that he could breathe."

"That's great," Harry said with conviction. "I mean... better than great, that's amazing."

"Right," Marietta agreed. "Another day later, they took him to Azkaban. A week later, they sentenced him to be Kissed. And..." she sniffled a little, in an almost childish way. "I suppose I shouldn't have, but I went to see him afterwards," she said. "You probably don't know it, but the Dementor's Kiss doesn't result in exactly the same effect for everyone who is Kissed. Some, who are executed that way, are still able to perform some basic functions, like walk, and feed themselves. Some... can't do anything. Can only breathe. Well... that was him. All he could do was breathe. Breathe with the new set of lungs that I had given him. That's all he'll ever do."

All Harry could do was stare at her speechlessly.

"My supervisor called me into his office the next day," Marietta added softly. "I was ready to hand in my resignation. I was so fed up with it all... he just shook his head and said, _Mari, I've told you over and over again, you are too clever for your own good_."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't resign," Harry said awkwardly, and looked away, while she lifted a tea- towel to her face, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. She turned her attention to the food again, stirred several times, and a few minutes later, proclaimed the dinner to be ready.

For a few minutes they ate in a comfortable silence.

"You know," Harry said finally in a quiet voice, "I could never understand the rationale behind the Dementor's Kiss. I mean... it's not just cruel. It makes no sense. It's... weird. Why would we do that to anyone?"

"It's not weird at all," Marietta said calmly. "See, for the empty shell that is left in place of the person who used to be, it really doesn't matter. The shell doesn't know anything. Leaving that shell alive isn't meant to punish the criminal. The Ministry would never admit to it, but really it's a punishment for the criminal's family. There is no closure, no finality, no goodbyes. The family... they watch for years and years, staring at that ghost of someone they used to know, hoping for some sort of reaction, some sort of response... some glimmer of recognition... and eventually their minds start playing tricks on them, and they start projecting their own hopes onto that shell... only to have their hopes dashed, over and over again. See, it makes perfect sense."

"That's horrible," said Harry.

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly. "Yes, but that's the idea. The best, most sure way for the Ministry to control you is to strike at the family." Her unhappy smile lingered for a moment and then disappeared. "I should know," she added quietly. "Not that I'm defending myself..."

"Why did you join Dumbledore's Army in the first place?" Harry asked. "I mean... you were so scared for your mum..."

"That was probably the stupidest thing I've done in my entire life," she whispered. "I fell in love with Cho the same year she fell in love with you. I think she wanted me to join, to prove herself to you, show you that she could bring new members in... she said she couldn't be friends with me if I wasn't a part of that." Marietta shrugged indifferently. "I was too scared of losing her friendship... then, when I joined, I was scared for my mother. Not just for her job... I really, really did not want her to end up like Alice Longbottom. And I could be certain that if something happened to her because of me, my father wouldn't be there for her. You know?"

Harry nodded absently.

"I know," Harry agreed, "but I still believe that some things mean more than... even family."

"Like being on the right side and fighting for good cause?"

"Yes," Harry said bluntly.

"Really?" Marietta challenged. "Would you have been fighting Voldemort with so much passion, if he hadn't killed your parents? Remember how you've always said it was _personal_ because he killed your mum and dad?"

Harry bowed his head. "I suppose," he admitted reluctantly. "But still... I'd like to think I would have fought him, even if..."

"Maybe you would have," Marietta conceded. "You've always been just a little more grown-up than the rest of us."

Harry smiled a little at that. "What about you? When did you decide to grow up?"

"The summer afterwards was long," she said. "My mum took me to St. Mungo's, then to one private healer after another, to lift the hex. Not that it helped much. Mum was so upset... Then, the next autumn, on the train, Cho was blaming me for you breaking up with her. Then... then, you saw me on the train, with ten layers of makeup on my forehead, and smirked."

Harry blushed profusely, but Marietta spoke without any accusation. "That's when," she said peacefully, "I finally grew up once and for all."

Harry glanced at her thoughtfully. "You've turned out all right."

She stared at him with undisguised amusement. "Well, thank you for that glowing endorsement, Harry Potter."

She stood up and cleared the table, while Harry watched.

"I guess I should go," Harry said. "We have a long day tomorrow. You are going to watch Severus while we look for the stone, right?"

"I can," Marietta agreed, "but why don't we bring him along?"

"Huh?" Harry stared at her, slightly dumbfounded.

She shrugged. "He'll be safe. I think he can manage it at this point, and we can't keep him in a stasis bubble forever, you know? Besides, he probably knows the Forbidden Forest better than all of us put together..."

"I suppose you're right," Harry agreed. "All right. I'll ask him."

"Good." Marietta smiled as she saw him out. "I suppose I wasn't very good company," Marietta mused ruefully. "I always find some weird stuff to talk about. Death, torture, Dementors..."

"We should do it again," Harry interrupted her. "I enjoyed it."

"Did you now?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Perhaps _enjoyed_ wasn't quite the right word, given the subject matter they ended up discussing, but... it had been great, Harry thought.

"All I'm saying is, we should hang out more."

Her lips twitched slightly. "Oh, I suppose I could find it in my heart to pencil you into my overwhelmingly tight social schedule," she said dryly.

"Brilliant," Harry said.

To his surprise, she planted a friendly kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Harry."

**To Be Continued...**


	23. Whispers of Freedom

**Whispers of Freedom**

Severus was mildly surprised to be asked to join the group of his former students in the search for the Resurrection Stone, but he agreed instantly. Much to his own dismay, his reasons for joining the search were likely not what Harry had assumed them to be.

While the idea of having his name cleared once and for all was vaguely satisfying, the prospect of being _free_ was nothing short of unnerving. _Free_ from what exactly? He considered his current living arrangements thoughtfully, and could not find a single thing he wished to be _free from_. He had gotten accustomed to the company of others, to the cat, to the comfort of Harry's home... and more to the point, he had become attached to Harry, probably a great deal more than Harry would approve of.

This sort of feeling was new to him. Even as a small child he had never felt that sort of attachment to his own parents. While other children seemed to be upset when their parents were gone, and comforted by their return, Severus remembered being indifferent when his mother and father weren't around, and carefully avoiding them upon reunion.

Not that he had a good reason to feel any other way. His parents used to be largely unconcerned when he was crying and never made any haste to relieve his distress. Come to think of it, nor had anyone else in his life.

Except... the last several weeks had been _different_. Whenever Severus _needed_ something, whenever he was distressed in some way, Harry rushed to respond the best he could, and Severus realized all too quickly that he could offer no defense against something so simple, and so human.

Go to the Forbidden Forest? Severus smiled ruefully. At this point, if Harry invited him to trek across Antarctica, he wouldn't have refused.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Early Friday morning they left enormous amounts of food and clean water for Tripod, petted him together, and took the Floo to the Burrow. Hermione and Ron were already there, arguing in vehement whispers over an old map of the Forbidden Forest. Ginny was up as well, curled up in a large armchair with a book in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

"Any coffee left?" Harry asked by way of greeting, glancing at two mugs on the table next to Ron and Hermione.

"Some, if you want the dregs," Ginny said. "I'd make a fresh pot if I were you."

"Would you mind?" Ron asked, never lifting his eyes off the map. "Coffee is in the cupboard above the sink. Now, look, 'Mione, if we start at the site of Voldemort's encampment, all we need to do is work outwards..."

"I'm not saying we shouldn't _start_ there, all I'm saying is that if the stone isn't found there, then we should expand our search intelligently, by estimating the most likely direction..."

"I keep telling you, you can't bloody estimate that! It's been seven years!"

"Well, if you use your brain..."

"_Don't_ tell me..."

Ginny shook her head resignedly. "They've been at it since six this morning. Going in circles like that."

"Must be irritating," Harry said.

"Actually, it's almost hypnotic," Ginny said, returning her attention to the book.

"Do you mind making coffee?" Harry asked, turning to Severus. "I'll chat with Hermione and Ron and make sure they won't murder each other before we even begin the search."

Severus nodded mutely and retreated into the kitchen. It took him a good minute to find the coffee, and a few more minutes to figure out how to work the complicated appliance that spoke volumes of Arthur Weasley's attachment to Muggle technology.

Eventually, the contraption yielded to his efforts and the coffee was brewed. Severus barely had time to savor his victory when he heard a sound of soft, hesitant footsteps.

He turned around to see a small girl, dressed in blue pajamas, standing in the doorway, yawning sleepily. The resemblance to Harry was unmistakable – the child had dark hair and green eyes, almost a copy of Harry's. The only thing that betrayed Ginny's parentage was the girl's slightly upturned nose and a small dash of freckles peppering her face.

"Hello," the girl said bravely, extending her hand. "I'm Lily Eileen."

Although Severus already knew her full name, he was still startled to hear it. He reciprocated the gesture, shaking her hand firmly. "Hello. I'm Severus Snape."

The enormous green eyes opened even wider and scrutinized him head to toe.

"I thought it might be you," she said. "Dad keeps a photograph of you on his desk. What happened to your hair?"

Slightly surprised by her question, he lifted his hand to his head absently. "It got all tangled up. Had to be cut."

Lily winced in sympathy. "That's awful. Same thing happened to aunt Hermione's cat. She went away for work, she was gone for a month, and uncle Ron forgot to groom the cat, and his fur got all matted and mangy. Then it had to be cut short, and uncle Ron said he had to go to the doghouse." The girl climbed into the kitchen chair and perched there comfortably, dangling her feet. "Dad said you were lost for seven years," she informed Severus matter-of-factly. "Were you lost like Robinson Crusoe?"

"Hmm," Severus muttered, vaguely recalling the old Muggle novel. "A bit like that, yes."

Lily's expression grew slightly alarmed. "On a strange island, all alone, then? Were there cannibals there?"

"Excuse me?" He hadn't remembered that part of the book until just now. "No. Absolutely not," he said quickly, eager to reassure her in spite of the oddly apt analogy. "No cannibals. What kind of bedtime stories are your parents letting you read, anyway?"

"Dad says it's a classic," Lily explained. "What's a _classic_?"

"Something very good. Something that influenced a lot of people."

Lily absorbed the information in silence. "Are you a _classic_?" she asked hesitantly.

Taken aback by the odd question, he wasn't certain how to respond. Fortunately, Harry rescued him, by calling out from the living room, "Lily, you aren't bothering the Professor, are you?"

"I'm not bothering anyone!" Lily protested indignantly. "And you forgot to introduce us. That's not very polite."

"I didn't know you were awake," Harry said, entering the kitchen and pouring himself a mug of fresh coffee. "Run along, sweetie. Time to get washed and dressed."

The girl jumped off the chair and left the kitchen, but not before casting one parting look at Severus and telling Harry in a very stern, not-quite-whisper, "Don't forget to brush his hair when it gets long again!"

Harry looked at Severus sheepishly and opened his mouth to say something when the Burrow burst into a flurry of activity. Some people were arriving by Floo, others Apparating just outside of the house and knocking on the door.

Severus and Harry stepped out into the living room together. Severus looked around, taking note of those assembled. He saw Neville and Hannah, Pansy, Daphne and Blaise, Luna, Marietta, and a few others, including Cho Chang, Dean Thomas, Angelina Johnson, George Weasley, and Lee Jordan. Draco was the last to arrive; he gave Severus a barely noticeable, subdued nod upon entering the Burrow.

"We've got a problem," Cho's loud and slightly distraught voice announced. "We can't Apparate anywhere near the Forbidden Forest anymore. I spoke to Professor Flitwick last night. He said the Ministry of Magic and the Board of Governors held a meeting, and the anti-Apparition wards around Hogwarts have been expanded..."

"How far?" Ron asked calmly.

"Fifty mile radius," Cho said regretfully.

"I suppose they weren't too pleased with us searching Hogwarts and trying to prove the Professor's innocence," Blaise said. "Well, now what? Potter, can you get us a Portkey?"

"No, it'll take too long to steal one or make one, and even longer to sign one out for personal use," Harry said. "Let's just Floo to Hogsmeade and walk to the forest."

"All right," Hermione said, consulting her listing of Hogsmeade businesses. "The coffee shop, High Grounds, is the first one open. We'll Floo in there, have breakfast, and then go search for the stone."

"What if the search takes longer than one day?" Daphne asked. "Maybe we should book a couple of rooms at Madam Rosmerta's, just in case we need to spend the night..."

"Good idea," Ginny agreed. "I'll book two nights for all of us, just in case."

"Rosmerta now has a guest house as well," Harry explained, noticing Severus' slightly confused expression. "Right next to the Three Broomsticks."

Severus nodded quickly. He was beginning to feel slightly crowded, but not nearly as uncomfortable as he had felt in Diagon Alley a few days earlier. The faces of his former students, as far as he could tell, held no signs of gloating, pity, or even curiosity. In fact, everyone simply seemed to be excited and focused on the task ahead.

Harry's hand rested on his elbow.

"Shall we go?" Harry asked.

Severus looked at him, studying his expression. He saw the concern and the unspoken offer to return home, along with something that almost looked like a friendly challenge of sorts.

"Yes," Severus agreed. "We should go."

A moment later they stepped into the Floo together, followed closely by the others.

**o-o-o-o-o**

_High Grounds_ turned out to have a large floor space, and an even larger garden with tables, easily accommodating the entire group.

Harry took a hold of Severus' elbow and skillfully navigated them through the crowd to a quiet table in the corner.

"Are you doing all right so far?" Harry asked once they were seated and the hostess had delivered the food to their table. "The crowd isn't getting to you?"

"I'm all right. The crowd is fine."

"That's good." Harry poked his egg with a fork absently. "You know, I hope it doesn't weird you out too much," Harry said, clearly trying to keep his voice even and measured, "but I hope that when we find the stone, and your name is cleared, you won't leave right away."

"You intend to host me after it is no longer necessary?" Severus clarified. "Why?"

"Well, legal freedom is one thing, but... it takes time to adjust to regular life, I imagine," Harry said neutrally. "I need to make sure you're all right before you take off to be on your own again."

Severus stared at Harry intently, not wanting to admit how much comfort Harry's statement brought with it. "Oh? I didn't realize I inspired that much pity."

"_Pity_ is probably the wrong word for it," Harry said, appearing to take no offense at his tone. "But... when people fight on the same side, they should take care of each other once the dust settles," he said softly. "Otherwise, what's the point of fighting?"

"Hmm." He didn't quite know how to counter that odd logic, nor did he want to try, so great was the relief flooding him at Harry's words. "Do you really think we'll find it?" Severus asked instead.

"The stone? Well, I don't see why not. Only the group here knows about it being there. The chances of it having been picked up by someone else are small, I reckon."

"That's reasonable," Severus admitted. The word _freedom_ played through his mind again. This time, for some reason, it appeared a great deal less threatening.

**o-o-o-o-o**

They began their hike towards the Forbidden Forest an hour later. Hermione and Ron led the way, followed closely by Lee, George and Angelina. The Slytherins trailed closely behind them, casting curious glances ahead. Marietta and Luna walked a dozen feet ahead of Harry and Severus, who were bringing up the rear.

The sun was peeking timidly through the thick cover of clouds, and a tiny, barely noticeable spray of rain fell from the sky. Severus smiled absently, as the infinitesimal droplets of water touched his skin. The faint rustling of wind along the grass seemed to give an almost human voice to the odd, unfamiliar hope.

_Freedom. _The word continued to haunt him as he pondered its many meanings and implications. If Harry's words were to be trusted, and every instinct of his suggested that they should be, it was something to look forward to. Maybe _freedom_ was something like Harry's touch, that took nothing away from him, but simply gave something that he had needed his entire life, yet had never dared to hope for.

As if in response to his thoughts, Harry's hand brushed against his elbow, and Severus' heart skipped a beat at the slight, barely noticeable contact.

"Still doing all right?" Harry checked.

"Yes. Fine. You?"

Harry's face, bearing the small droplets of rain, looked radiant in the morning light.

"Brilliant," Harry said.

**o-o-o-o-o**

When they finally reached the Forbidden Forest, it took Harry the best part of an hour to find Aragog's abandoned lair.

"The spiders left after the war was over," Luna informed Severus. "They never came back. It's really tragic."

"Yes, really, who's going to eat us alive now?" Ron mocked, but in a good-natured way.

"All right, can I have everyone's attention, please?" Ginny announced, waving the large book that she'd been seen reading back at the Burrow.

The chatter died quickly and everyone stared at her expectantly. The next fifteen minutes held a crash-course on archaeological techniques that Ginny delivered in a competent, clear, and concise way, including demonstrating the spells for lifting and sifting the layers of soil.

"We're going to partition the area into five-meter squares," Ginny said in conclusion. "Work in pairs, it helps to have someone else watch your work. When you complete your square, if you've not found anything, move on to the next one. Don't be afraid to spend too much time on one square; don't speed along. This isn't a race. Precision, attention to detail, and focus are everything. Remember, the stone is very small, think about the size of your thumbnail. If you find it, you'll know – it's black, and it has a very particular design: a triangle with a circle inside it, and a line crossing it. If you get confused, please ask for help. I'm sure Hermione will be more than happy to lecture you and tell you what a hopeless idiot you are."

They set to work at once. Harry seemed to be a quick learner. He worked quickly and efficiently, going through layers of soil with unwavering concentration and an astonishing amount of energy. Severus watched him for several minutes, surprised at the ease with which Harry had learned the new spells. Whatever he had thought of him as a student, there was no denying that Harry was now a competent wizard.

"Was it here?" Severus asked suddenly, as he watched Harry sift through a heap of freshly upturned soil.

"Was what here?" Harry asked absently. "Oh. When Voldemort struck me with the killing curse? Yes." Harry grinned a little. "Why?"

Severus was watching Harry intently, trying to imagine what it might have been like for a seventeen-year-old boy to walk willingly to his death.

"It must have been terrifying," he said very softly.

Harry shrugged. "I don't remember. I remember what I was thinking... I remember every tree branch, every root that was sticking out of the ground, but for the life of me, I can't recall what it actually _felt_ like."

"It's understandable. The emotional intensity of memories fades in time," Severus mused. "Occlumency and Legilimency are good mental disciplines that can help retrieve memories without the emotional… entanglements."

"I know," Harry surprised him by saying. "Ron and I took some Occlumency training as Aurors. It was... actually quite interesting."

Severus was surprised by the pang of regret that came with Harry's words, regret that seemed suspiciously close to jealousy. He couldn't tell whether he was jealous of the fact that someone else had succeeded where he'd failed, managing to teach Harry the complex discipline... or whether it was just a vague sense of discontent at the realization that over the last seven years other people's lives had been going on, while his own had stood still.

Harry glanced at him above the rim of his eyeglasses and grinned a little.

"Not to worry. I'm still not nearly as good as you at Occlumency. When you start casting spells, you can practice Legilimency on me all you want."

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter," Severus said automatically, "your mind isn't that fascinating."

For a split-second Severus was genuinely horrified by the words that emerged from his own mouth without any effort at sarcasm. He tensed slightly out of habit, half expecting some sort of disaster to strike, but Harry snickered and then doubled over in laughter. Severus let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and chuckled quietly, allowing himself to relax as well.

"What's funny?" Luna asked from the square next to them. Next to her, Marietta interrupted her work, glancing at Severus and Harry with a wry grin.

"It's a private joke," Harry said when his laughter had subsided.

"You aren't making fun of us, are you?"

"No, Lovegood. If I were making fun of you, I'd do it in a very public way," Severus assured her.

Luna Lovegood lifted her head and stared at them both with undisguised affection. "That's good to know," she said with a genuine and slightly mischievous smile. "I'd hate to miss something like that."

**To Be Continued...**


	24. Unsettled Soil

**Unsettled Soil **

They worked throughout the morning and afternoon, stopping to take a few breaks. In the late afternoon they walked back to Hogsmeade, catching the owner ofHigh Grounds fifteen minutes before she was about to close the shop, and convinced her to stay open for another hour. The woman protested slightly, but Ginny made it worth her while with a stack of galleons. The hostess relented and cooked up a storm to feed them all.

They walked back and resumed the search, redoubling their efforts. However, when the sun finally set they had plowed through what seemed like five thousand square meters of the Forbidden Forest without any success.

"We should head back to Hogsmeade," Marietta said, casting a cautious look at Severus. "Have dinner and get some rest. We'll start again tomorrow morning."

"All right," Harry said reluctantly, standing up and wiping his hands on the legs of his trousers. He fought hard to conceal his disappointment. Pansy and Hermione could talk all they wanted to about soil shifting, but the truth was, the farther they went from Aragog's lair, the less likely it was that they'd actually find the Stone.

They began to hike back to Hogsmeade. Luna was yawning tiredly, and Daphne was leaning on Blaise for support. Next to Harry, Severus looked like he was about to fall asleep on his feet.

"You must be hungry," Harry said, and his own stomach grumbled loudly. "I know I am."

They reached the pub and knocked. Rosmerta opened the door and smiled when she saw Harry and Ginny. However, her smile faded instantly when her gaze fell on the Slytherins. In absolute silence she scanned the faces and her eyes hardened when she stared at Draco.

"I was told it'd be members of Dumbledore's Army. You didn't mention Slytherins or _him_," she said, her chin pointing at Draco.

Half hiding behind Pansy, Blaise and Daphne, Draco looked like he was ready for the earth to swallow him whole. He avoided looking at anyone and was simply staring at his boots, shifting slightly under Rosmerta's harsh gaze. Suddenly, he seemed more like a scared teenager again, and Harry felt a sudden surge of compassion for his former rival.

Draco finally took a deep breath. "I'm sorry—"

"Sorry?" Rosmerta cut him off in a rather unforgiving way. "Don't you think it's a little late for _sorries_, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco didn't seem inclined to argue. "I suppose it is … Look, if you can just let me use your Floo to get home..."

"You aren't setting your foot into my pub ever again," Rosmerta said bluntly, in a rather final way. "In fact, if you don't leave now, I'm going to have you charged with trespassing." She glanced at Harry and Ginny with clear disapproval. "Honestly, you two. I never thought you'd be keeping company with the likes of him."

Harry opened his mouth to try and reason with her, but quite unexpectedly Ginny cut in, spitting out the words furiously, "You know what, Rosmerta? You aren't the only one who got hurt in the war. For the record, I'm quite all right with the present company. And if you can't see past a mistake someone made seven years ago, then you can keep your opinions to yourself, and you can be certain that none of us will ever set foot in your pub for as long as you live. We wouldn't stay here if this were the last guest house on the face of the earth. So fuck off and have yourself a good night."

The door slammed in their faces, leaving the group outside. Tense silence ensued, until finally, Pansy issued a choked, nervous laugh, and Luna said with absolute seriousness, "That was very brave, Ginny. The way you just yelled at the old lady."

"Sod off," Ginny spat, sounding more annoyed than angry.

"Well, er, Ginevra, it's not that we aren't touched," Blaise said sardonically, "but you realize, that we're now stranded in Hogsmeade for the night, without a place to sleep, and without a way of getting back until morning?"

"Zabini is right," Cho said quietly. "All the shops are closed, and the Three Broomsticks is the only place with a Floo that's still open."

"Shit," Ginny whispered. "I really didn't think that one through."

"Well. You _could_ go back in and apologize," George said flippantly.

"Fuck her! I'm not apologizing!" Ginny snapped. "We don't need her stupid guest house."

"I'm hungry," Luna said in a small voice.

"Me too," Cho added.

"Shut up!" Lee snapped. "Stop whining! Everybody's hungry! Fuck!"

"Calm down, everybody!" Hermione said sternly, pointing to her little charmed knapsack. "I brought extra food. Enough to feed you all. Nobody is going to starve to death."

"You didn't bring tents, did you?" Harry joked, eyeing Hermione's knapsack longingly.

"Afraid not, I wasn't counting on your wife making us homeless," Hermione muttered, giving Ginny a very sharp look.

"Fuck you," Ginny said almost pleasantly.

"I'm sleepy," Daphne muttered. "Whatever we do, we should decide now."

"Well, what's there to do?" Harry said. "We'll find a suitable spot and camp out. We can use Transfiguration to make tents, and warming spells, and set up a warded perimeter..."

"That's another good hour of work," Daphne lamented. "We should have brought a Portkey with us to use to get back!"

"Or brooms," Draco said wistfully.

"Or my dad's flying car," George said. "I could have shuttled all of us back to the Apparition limits..."

"Well, we didn't think of that, did we?" Harry snapped, irritated by the multiple should haves flying at him from every direction. "No point complaining about it now. Let's set up camp and go to sleep."

They began to walk towards the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

Harry and Ron selected a location that was far enough from the main road so as not to attract undue attention to the group. The two of them then circled the area setting up a warded perimeter around the campsite, while Luna and Marietta cast warming charms on the entire area. The others proceeded to break into small groups and chat animatedly, some remembering the Quidditch World Cup a decade ago; others the years of the war, and the time spent in the tents. Aside from everyone else, Draco and Hermione worked together, casting Transfiguration spells to erect a large tent.

"I don't understand why you're refusing to make a proper cabin," Draco muttered, obviously disgruntled.

"The idea is to attract _less_ attention, remember?" Hermione said.

"There's always the Disillusionment Charm," Draco continued to argue, but it seemed that he was simply arguing out of habit.

"There's always the option for you to stop bitching too," Hermione said teasingly, and Draco snorted under his breath.

When they were done with securing the campsite perimeter, Ron departed to help with the tent and Hermione began to distribute the food rations, which turned out to be just Pot Noodle snacks. As if she didn't trust anyone to do so on their own, Hermione conjured a kettle and proceeded to add boiling water to the plastic cup with the dehydrated noodle mix. Harry rolled his eyes at her, but took two cups and made his way to Severus, who was standing slightly aside from everyone else, hugging his body with his arms and appearing to be slightly lost amidst the flurry of activity.

Even though his posture suggested he was too cold in spite of the warming charms, Severus looked surprisingly untroubled, seemingly taking the misadventures of the evening in his stride.

"Hey," Harry said, handing him the plastic cup with the noodle mix.

Severus accepted the food offered to him and they sat down on the ground together. For a few minutes they ate quietly, with Harry casting quick glances at Severus, hoping he wasn't being too obvious about it. He probably should have just minded his own meal, Harry thought, but he couldn't help looking. In fact, looking at Severus was quickly becoming a semi-guilty pleasure of Harry's, and every time he paused to do that it felt like a small miracle.

Severus was not dead, not lost. Severus was alive, safe, and on the mend. Not everything was lost. However slowly or painfully, the mistakes of the past were being fixed.

Harry was startled to see Severus intercepting and holding his gaze.

"You're staring at me," Severus pointed out, but not in a contentious tone of voice.

Not wanting to give voice to his sentimental ruminations, Harry just smiled. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Severus said guardedly, setting the empty plastic cup on the ground.

"What? You aren't going to comment on my lack of social skills?" Harry teased cautiously.

To his delight, Severus' lips twisted into a smirk. "I don't see the need to point out the obvious."

Harry chuckled a little and glanced at the large tent that was standing tall, the pale canvas contrasting against the darkening sky.

"Are you going to be all right for the night?" Harry asked. "It'll be weird to fall asleep and wake up sharing the tent with so many others..."

"I'll be fine, Harry," Severus said in a quiet voice. "I'm always fine when I wake up next to you."

Harry found himself blushing more than slightly, although he wasn't exactly sure why. Severus must have noticed the change in his expression, because he offered hesitantly, "My apologies. I suppose that didn't come out right."

"No, it's fine," Harry quickly said , eager to get past the awkward moment. "Though mind you, this wasn't a part of the plan. Rosmerta surprised me, I guess. I've never known her to be such a nasty bint."

Severus nodded slightly. "She felt threatened, I imagine. Draco did cast an Unforgivable on her, and … that sort of thing isn't easily forgotten. To see him show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, accompanied by more than a dozen others..."

Harry bowed his head. "I didn't think of it like that," he admitted reluctantly. "Maybe we do owe her an apology."

"I wouldn't go that far," Severus said dryly, causing Harry to chuckle again.

"Well, on that cheerful note, let's go get some sleep," Harry said.

They entered the tent and proceeded to claim the floor space. As inhospitably as it looked, it _felt_ utterly comfortable thanks to the warning spells and cushioning charms. Severus made his way towards one of the tent walls and stretched himself out on the floor next to it, with his face turned away from Harry and the rest of the group.

Harry lowered himself to the floor next to him. Quiet conversations began to die out as others entered the tent and dropped to the floor in exhaustion. Ginny was the last to enter, worming her way between Harry and Luna.

He mumbled a quick welcome to her and patted her shoulder sleepily.

"You all right, Harry?" she asked softly.

"Fine. You?"

"All right," she said. "Though I wish we'd found the Stone."

"We'll find it tomorrow," Harry said with a confidence he no longer felt. The dreadful feeling of failure began to set in, and he had the distinct impression that the next day was going to be just as fruitless.

"I hope so," she whispered quietly.

Next to him, Severus stirred in his sleep and issued a quiet, alarmed gasp. Harry reached for him and gave him a tiny shake on his shoulder. Severus didn't wake, but his body relaxed slightly at Harry's touch and he turned over in his sleep, resting his head against Harry's arm. In the darkness of the tent, Ginny sighed sleepily and curled up next to Harry, with her back resting against Harry's side.

He probably shouldn't have felt this much contentment at having both of them near him at the same time, but all Harry could do was shut his eyes and enjoy the feeling, listening to the sounds of quiet, measured breathing, Severus' and hers.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry teased her lightheartedly, "you know your worst fear just came true."

"And what would that be?"

"All three of us are sleeping in one big pile," Harry pointed out, barely able to keep his voice from laughter.

Ginny snickered quietly and her snicker converted into a yawn.

"You're silly," she said. "Get some sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow."

**To Be Continued...**


	25. The End of a Quest

**The End of a Quest **

Saturday was almost an exact repeat of Friday. The group ate at High Grounds in the morning, searched the forest until afternoon, had lunch at High Grounds, bought food for dinner, and went back to the forest to continue the search. When night came, they slept together at their makeshift campsite. The stone had still not been found, but Harry forced himself to remain optimistic, and Ginny's cheerful attitude appeared to be enough to keep the group going.

On Sunday morning they ate at High Grounds again, and made arrangements with the hostess to open the shop for them in the evening to allow them to Floo back home.

The search continued, but by the afternoon the mood of the entire group had become foul. People were irritated and frustrated with each other. Blaise and Daphne shouted at each other, with Daphne storming off into the woods. George said something nasty to Angelina, who threw a handful of dirt in his face and walked off, moving to work alone in a new square.

They had moved too far away from Aragog's lair – and Harry stopped believing that the stone would be found. The others seemed to lose hope as well, and their work had become sloppy and disorganized, earning stern reprimands from Hermione and Ginny alike.

Finally as evening came, they had to concede defeat.

Harry was the one to put it into words. "It's not here," he said.

"We don't know that. Maybe we've missed it," Pansy said a little desperately. "We should come back next weekend and keep looking."

"We can do that," Harry said quietly, standing up. "But for now, we should go home."

They began to hike back to Hogsmeade. Harry cast a cautious glance at Severus, wondering how he was taking the news. The man's face remained calm and composed as he continued to walk alongside Harry. If anything, Severus appeared to be a spectator, rather than a participant in events that concerned him directly.

**o-o-o-o-o-o**

They reached High Grounds, ate together in strained silence, and took the Floo to the Burrow, where everyone sat down together in the large living room. Severus felt remarkably out of place, and took a seat in the corner, avoiding looking at anyone. He didn't know what to make of this turn of events. He knew, of course, that something precious and incredibly important had just slipped through his fingers, but he felt surprisingly numb and unconcerned about it. All he wanted at this point was to go home.

Everyone was silent for a long time.

"All right," Draco said breaking the silence, his voice tight and his eyes not looking at anyone directly. "Any other bright ideas, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet," he admitted.

"I suppose we _could_ go back and keep looking," Hermione said softly. "Maybe we did miss it." The desperate lie sounded strange coming out of her mouth.

"It's not there and you know it," Ginny said bluntly. "I think someone else got the stone before we got to it."

"What I want to know is who," Marietta said. "Ron, did Percy know we were doing this?"

"Who do you take us for, Edgecombe!" Ron snapped in exasperation. "Of course we didn't tell anyone. We didn't even tell mum and dad what we were doing." He glared at her harshly. "Did _you_ tell anyone this time, eh? Your mum still works for the Ministry, doesn't she?"

"I don't tell her anything," Marietta said coolly. "If you don't believe me, feed me Veritaserum."

"I believe you," Hermione said quickly, before she glanced at Draco. "Did you tell your mum? Maybe she'd mentioned it to someone, innocently, you know?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't tell her this sort of stuff, Granger."

Across the room from him, Lee Jordan was staring at Cho Chang intently. "You said you spoke to Flitwick," he said with a chilling calm in his voice. "You told him we were going to look for the Resurrection Stone."

"Yes, but he'd never..! Lee, you don't know him like I do! He believes Professor Snape, he really does. He was the first one to believe Harry's story, even before McGonagall and Hagrid!"

"How nice," Lee said grimly. "And you firecalled him, hmm? Used the good old reliable Floo Network to exchange this sort of information?"

Cho paled slightly and brought her hand to her mouth.

"It didn't occur to you that the Network could be monitored by the Ministry?" Lee continued dangerously. "All that time in Dumbledore's Army, and you never learned a thing."

Cho's face contorted slightly and her eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I'm not used to thinking like this anymore..."

"Like what?" Pansy asked in an icy voice.

"Like we're at war," Cho said dejectedly. "Life seemed just... so normal, that... I didn't think..."

"Life seemed normal?" Blaise asked derisively. "What part of it, exactly, seems normal to you, Chang? The Dementors back in action, former Slytherins being persecuted everywhere they dare show their faces, or the Professor, not being able to leave Harry Potter's home? Huh? Tell me, what's so bloody _normal_ about any of this?"

For a few moments the others looked like they were going to take out their frustrations on Cho, who sat crying quietly, but Harry stood abruptly and put an end to the budding conflict.

"Enough," he said. "This isn't going to help. Go home, everyone. We'll talk later."

His former students began to get up and leave.

Eager to escape the commotion associated with people departing, Severus went to the kitchen and dropped into a chair wearily. To his surprise, Cho followed him there.

"Can I have a word with you, Professor?" she asked uncertainly.

He gave her a quick nod, and she took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said in a quiet way, her eyes lifting briefly to dart in his direction. "I really am. I don't know how I could have been so careless..."

He shrugged slightly, not knowing what he was supposed to say. In the course of his life he had not had much experience at offering absolution, as people were not in the habit of asking his forgiveness for anything. For that matter, he didn't know what it was like to be a recipient of forgiveness granted graciously either. Even Albus Dumbledore himself, the man Severus had come to think of as a friend, had exacted a pound of flesh from him before finally granting his own form of clemency to Severus...

Just as he was about to dismiss Cho's request with another one of his silent, impatient shrugs, deciding that the matter was far outside his sphere of experience, a single quick thought crossed his mind. _Harry._

Things were different now. Somehow, over the last two months, he'd begun learning a different kind of language. Harry certainly had both cause and opportunity to exact revenge for the sins of Severus' past, most of which had directly affected Harry... but Harry seemed uninterested in that sort of thing. He didn't rehash the old conflicts. He didn't issue warnings. Harry received him into his home without any conditions or apparent reservations. Severus didn't quite know what to make of this simple, unconditional acceptance. He only knew his world had changed forever.

He lifted his gaze slowly to realize that Cho was still standing there, clearly waiting for him to say something.

"I'm sorry," she said again, a little desperately.

"It's all right," he said awkwardly. "These things happen." The words of reassurance sounded strange coming out of his mouth. Apparently, it was also the wrong thing to say, because it only made Cho cry harder.

Severus shifted in his chair uncomfortably and cast a longing glance into the living room. Fortunately, Harry came to his rescue, entering the kitchen and resting his hand on Cho's shoulder.

"Enough," Harry said firmly. "You've made a mistake. We'll fix it. End of story. Go home."

Cho sniffled and fled quickly, and Harry shook his head ruefully.

"Are you going to be all right for a few more minutes?" Harry asked. "I just want to say goodnight to Lily. Then we'll go home."

Severus gave another silent nod, and Harry went upstairs.

Left alone, feeling worn out and drained beyond all measure, Severus shifted in his chair again, and rested his elbows on the kitchen table. He must have been even more tired than he'd realized, because he began to nod off as soon as Harry departed. He didn't hear the sound of footsteps, but simply became aware of someone's presence nearby.

He opened his eyes with a start, and his gaze focused on Luna's silhouette in the kitchen doorway.

"Hey, Professor," Luna said softly. "I'm about to go home, too, but I just wanted to tell you you're right."

"Right?" he echoed uncertainly.

"Right not to get upset," Luna explained serenely. "Everything will be fine. Things are already better than they were two months ago, aren't they?"

"Yes," he agreed cautiously, not certain what she was trying to tell him, but very much wanting to understand.

"Things will keep getting better," Luna said confidently. "You'll keep getting better and stronger. You'll start doing magic again, and then, one day, you'll conjure your Patronus." Luna smiled encouragingly at him. "Everything will be fine after that."

**To Be Continued..**.


	26. All Causes Shall Give Way

**All Causes Shall Give Way**

When Severus and Harry finally emerged from the Floo in Harry's home, they were greeted by a high-pitched, needy mewl that bordered on indignant. Tripod came running towards them and they petted him together, with Harry scratching the cat behind the ears and Severus stroking the cat's back. The last bitter cry died in the cat's throat and was replaced by unnaturally loud purring that still seemed a little too plaintive.

"Sorry, little puss," Harry teased absently. "Next time we go to the Forbidden Forest, we'll take you with us."

"That wouldn't be very wise," Severus said instantly, but Harry noticed that Severus smirked slightly at the suggestion.

"Nonsense, he'd love it," Harry said and yawned tiredly. "I'm going to shower."

"I think I'll do the same."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry emerged from the shower half an hour later, feeling refreshed and not quite so tired. Dressed in an old T-shirt, and a pair of shorts, Harry walked downstairs, heading straight for the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. He pulled out the bottle of Firewhisky and poured himself some, watching the liquid swirl in the glass.

He turned around at the sound of quiet footsteps behind him and saw Severus— wearing a thick dressing gown over his grey nightshirt—standing in the kitchen doorway.

Harry grinned sheepishly, suddenly feeling very much like a child caught with his hand in a biscuit tin.

"I just came to get a glass of water," Severus said.

"Help yourself." Harry moved away from the kitchen counter. "Unless you'd like a glass of Firewhisky as well," he offered on an impulse. The better part of Harry's brain suggested that he probably shouldn't be offering alcohol to Severus, given his weak stomach, but he was longing to see his former Professor start doing more adult-like things for a change.

Severus took a long minute to consider the offer.

"Fine," he said finally, and Harry chuckled, splashing some into a glass for him. They sat down at the kitchen table with the bottle between them.

"Cheers," Harry said in a quiet voice, lifting his glass in salute.

Severus nodded and took a sip, wincing as the liquid made its way down his throat.

"How are you doing?" Harry asked, taking a sip as well.

"Fine. You?"

Harry stared at him numbly for a few moments, surprised no end that Severus was inquiring about _his_ wellbeing after his own freedom had slipped through his fingers.

"All right, I suppose," Harry muttered, staring into the glass. "Still angry though. So angry with Cho, I could wring her neck."

"You didn't seem very angry when you were talking to her," Severus pointed out.

Harry chuckled unhappily. "Why do you think I told her to go home?"

"You're disappointed," Severus said uncertainly, as if he was still having difficulty imagining what other people might feel, or trouble matching words to emotions.

"Very," Harry confessed. "I guess I already had it in my mind that we'd find the Resurrection Stone, summon Dumbledore, and have him testify before the Wizengamot to establish your innocence... I could already picture the look on everyone's faces." Harry shook his head ruefully, drained the remainder of his drink in one quick gulp and reached to pour himself more. "Would have been nice, hm?"

Severus swallowed hard before taking another sip of his drink. "Yes," he admitted softly. "I miss him."

Startled by the unusually sentimental, and possibly alcohol-induced, confession Harry looked up at Severus.

"Me too," Harry whispered. "I don't suppose you know of any sort of proof he might have left behind?"

Severus shook his head with clear reluctance. "Harry, there couldn't be any proof."

Harry winced slightly as Severus' even voice sent a chill down his spine.

"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"We didn't plan it that way," Severus explained calmly. "I had a potion ready. Highly effective. Painless. Untraceable. There would be nothing linking me to his death."

Harry shuddered slightly at the realization that the public casting of the Killing Curse on Dumbledore had been unforeseen.

"Go on," Harry said.

"The random factors didn't play in our favor," Severus said. "We didn't count on Draco letting Death Eaters into the school, or the entire debacle being made public... but by then, it was too late to turn back." Severus' face scrunched up to form a bitter grimace, as he cited from memory, "_I am in blood / Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more / Returning were as tedious as go o'er."_

"Macbeth," Harry recognized the lines instantly. "Hmm. Yes. Almost fitting."

"Fitting entirely, I daresay," Severus muttered.

"Not entirely," Harry argued. "Just before that, Macbeth said something like, _For mine own good, all causes shall give way._ That's what's different. You weren't wading the proverbial river of blood for your own good..."

"Of course I was," Severus interrupted him grimly. "It may not have started out that way, but then, near the end, winning that damned war was for _my_ stake as much as for anyone else's. I wanted to bring that monster down. Winning became everything. At any cost. Including your own life, the life I was entrusted with protecting in the first place." There was a slight undercurrent of challenge in Severus' voice, as if were expecting Harry to recoil from him at the admission.

"I think near the end it was like that for all of us," Harry agreed tiredly. "That's probably why..." his voice trailed off as he proceeded to pour himself more Firewhisky and Severus followed suit. For a few minutes they drank together, regarding each other guardedly.

"Probably why what?" Severus finally inquired, breaking the tense silence.

Harry took a deep breath. "That's probably why I just left you there," he said. "In the Shrieking Shack. I – didn't think there was any real chance of you surviving, and I just figured I had to keep going, and win, no matter what, or who I left behind," Harry said. "Looking back, I can't even begin to tell you how much I regret doing that. Really, more than I regret anything else in my life."

"You exaggerate," Severus said.

"No. I've made horrible mistakes before. With Sirius... and the year before that, with Cedric... but that was different. I didn't abandon them. I shouldn't have abandoned you either. We should have brought you with us. I should have thought to hide your Pensieve before heading out to the Forest."

Listening to him without interrupting, Severus clutched the glass tightly.

"Things would have been so different if I had done that," Harry added softly. "You know, I tried to clear your name right after everything was over. But I had nothing. All I had was... my memory of viewing your Pensieve." Harry sighed unhappily. "I told them about the Doe Patronus, and provided a Pensieve of watching your Pensieve. The Wizengamot viewed it and deemed it insufficient. They said, there was no way to ascertain the authenticity of the original memories just by looking at them through my eyes, you know? If I had the real Pensieve back then they most likely would have listened. And now... the way the Wizengamot is _these_ days, hell-bent on punishing all the former Death Eaters...even if you provide another Pensieve..."

Severus nodded slowly. "The courts will likely dismiss it as deliberate deception..."

"Exactly," Harry muttered. "Well, who knows. Maybe Marietta and Luna are right – and we'll just have to wait for your Doe Patronus to reemerge. When that happens, we'll finally have hard evidence that it was you who led us to the Sword of Gryffindor. We'll likely still have quite a legal battle on our hands, but at least we'll have something like proof."

Severus inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Harry," he said finally. "I don't believe I ever thanked you for this, but... I... appreciate your efforts."

Harry shook his head. "There are so many things I have done wrong, so many things that I should have done and didn't. You don't need to thank me."

Severus smirked slightly. "Who else would I thank, if not you?"

Feeling more than slightly embarrassed, Harry stood up abruptly and drained the rest of his Firewhisky in a quick gulp.

"Guess I'd better turn in," Harry said, remembering with loathing that he had to go back to work in the morning.

"I'll do the same," Severus said, standing up, swaying on his feet unsteadily and bumping into the wall. "With some practice," he added wryly, swaying again.

"Easy," Harry muttered, walking over to him and holding him up. "I'll walk you upstairs."

"You've drunk four times as much as I did," Severus pointed out, sounding as petulant as a child who just lost an important contest.

"I've had more practice lately," Harry said with a small chuckle.

They made it upstairs slowly, taking care not to trip over Tripod, who decided to weave himself around their feet while they walked.

Eventually, Harry guided Severus to lie down on the bed and collapsed next to him in exhaustion. A small part of his brain _knew_ that there was a very good reason for him to get up and go to his own bedroom, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what that reason was, so he simply drifted off to sleep.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Harry woke up when the tingling sensation of the morning alarm spell ran through his arm. He shook it off, deciding that he was going to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet before getting up. It really felt wonderful to simply linger in bed for a few minutes, only...

His heart sank when he realized that during the night Severus had ended up nestled in his embrace again, and now Harry's morning erection was pressing firmly against the man's backside. Harry didn't need Marietta's books on trauma to realize that at this point, waking up with someone's prick pressed to his bum wasn't going to facilitate Severus' recovery in the slightest. He should have gone to sleep in his own bed, Harry thought ruefully, but instead he just passed out drunk next to his patient...

Careful not to make any sudden moves, Harry rolled away slowly and silently thanked his lucky stars when Severus didn't wake, but simply issued a quiet, displeased grunt as their bodies parted.

Harry still felt unsettled about the whole thing, but at least he was now wide awake. He got up and shuffled off to the shower in his own bedroom. When he turned the water on and stepped in, he found that the arrow of his battered moral compass was firmly pointing in the direction of _not_ dwelling on the memory of Severus' body pressed against his. For a few long minutes he diligently tried to comply with the instructions of his conscience, but the memory was too persistent and too fresh in his mind.

All in all, entertaining a brief fantasy that wouldn't lead anywhere was a small matter, Harry reasoned, as he stroked himself, bringing himself to an orgasm while trying not to feel overly guilty about the wistful daydream that included skipping work and lounging in bed, with Severus sleeping next to him.

_Separate beds from now on, no matter what_, Harry vowed, before finally turning the water off.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Severus woke up to the sound of voices downstairs. He recognized Harry's at once, and it took him a few moments to identify the other voice as Draco's.

"He's still sleeping, I think," Harry was saying. "Just let him sleep."

"Fine. Get out already. The way you procrastinate one might think you don't love your job as much as the newspapers say you do."

"Sod off. Anyway, there's plenty of food in the fridge... and... be good. Don't upset him."

Draco issued a quiet, mirthless chuckle.

"You really are something, you know, Potter? You cast a slave spell on him, abandon him in the hands of the enemy, and then tell _me_ not to upset him?"

Harry groaned loudly. "Well, as you can see, I can fuck things up rather spectacularly on my own. I don't need your help with that."

The sound of the Floo flames indicated Harry's departure.

So, Draco had come to visit him at last, for the first time since Severus' rescue. Severus smirked slightly and shook his head. He knew that Draco was helping him behind the scenes, but by the same token Severus didn't fail to notice that Draco had managed to completely avoid spending any time with him... until now. Perhaps Severus wasn't the only one who'd lost a hold on the old connections and attachments that used to mean so much at one time.

Hearing Draco's voice brought back fragments of old memories, conversations that took place eight years ago.

"_His soul is not yet so damaged. I would not have it ripped apart on my account._"  
"_And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?_"

"_I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco —" _

_"Looks like you'll have to break it, then..." _

Severus found himself scowling, uncertain as to why the recollections brought so much resentment with them, although the resentment didn't seem to be aimed at anyone in particular.

He let out a deep breath and allowed the disjointed memories and uncertain feelings to fade again, before getting ready to go downstairs.

**To Be Continued...**


	27. Unease

**Unease**

When Severus finally made it downstairs a good hour after he woke up, Draco rose to his feet to greet him.

"Hello, Sir," he said uncertainly.

Severus chuckled quietly, amused by the unexpected formality. "You can dispense with the 'Sir', Draco. School has been out for a long time."

"Severus then?" Draco half-said, half-asked, eyeing him in a very tentative, slightly guarded way. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise. I heard about your father. I'm sorry," Severus said.

"Thank you."

"How's your mother doing?"

"She's all right."

"And you?"

Draco gave him a long, uncertain look. "Me too. Should I cook you breakfast?"

"I can do that myself," Severus said, heading into the kitchen. "What do you take?"

"Just coffee, please," Draco said. "Milk, no sugar."

The exchange of the all-too-short sentences was almost painfully awkward, but at least they were making conversation, Severus thought, as he walked to the kitchen, turned the cooker on, made toast, and proceeded to prepare coffee. Draco followed him, and stood in the doorway, still staring numbly ahead.

"Would you like your coffee to take out?" Severus asked impatiently. "If not, please do me the honor of sitting down, and if you're going to stare at me the entire time, shut your mouth."

Draco finally sat down, and gave him a weak grin. "Sorry," he said softly, and another long, awkward pause ensued.

Severus placed the coffee on the table, and proceeded to cover a slice of toast with a generous helping of chocolate spread. Draco sipped his coffee and stared into his mug. For a moment Draco's lips moved inaudibly, as if he were going to say something, but he simply shook his head mutely, and remained silent.

"Draco, what is it?" Severus said. "You obviously want to ask something, so go ahead and do so before the day comes to a close."

"All right," Draco said flatly. "How are you doing here?"

Not _how are you doing_, but _how are you doing __here_. The distinction didn't escape Severus: Draco seemed to be of the opinion that staying with Potter under such circumstances could be nothing short of dismal.

"I'm doing fine _here_," Severus said simply, keeping the irritation in his voice down to the bare minimum.

Draco smiled mirthlessly. "I know Potter is all Gryffindor in public, but how is he in private?"

"He's fine," Severus said softly, remembering the ongoing vendetta between Draco and Harry back in school, sensing Draco's concern, and wanting to reassure him. "He's not the terror he used to be. I never thought I'd say this, but he turned out all right."

"You could stay with us, you know," Draco offered, as if he hadn't heard him, looking at Severus with a strange mixture of pity and embarrassment. "I can talk to mum..."

"Thank you, but I think that would complicate matters needlessly at this point," Severus said stiffly.

A brief spark of rage flashed in Draco's eyes, but he didn't argue. They finished the breakfast in a strained, heavy silence, and Draco sat in his chair, rigid as a stick, while Severus cleared the kitchen table. Still quiet, they went to the living room together. Severus picked up a random periodical from the book shelf, and sat down to read. Before Draco could do the same, Tripod ran toward them and butted Draco's leg with his head.

"Stupid cat," Draco muttered, stepping over him, and giving him a small push with his foot.

"I thought you liked cats," Severus said as neutrally as he could, patting the couch next to him. Tripod turned around and ran to him at once.

"Well, I don't like this one."

"I don't see why. He's very friendly."

"He's _friendly_?" Draco shouted suddenly. "_Why_ is he friendly? He's fucking missing a leg! He's got no reason to be friendly!"

Startled by Draco's outburst, the cat jumped off the couch and fled upstairs to the bedroom, his ears pressed tightly to his head.

"Nicely done," Severus said sardonically. "I think you're the first person to scare him off."

Draco glared at him unrepentantly, and Severus decided he'd had more than enough for the morning. "I think it's best if I leave you alone." He walked away, heading downstairs, feeling Draco's angry gaze on the back of his head the entire time.

Once he reached the comfortable solitude of his study, he leaned against the wall, and shut his eyes. The feelings of resentment and irritation that were indeterminate and vague earlier this morning, continued to grow.

_Shame_, the word crossed his mind.

Draco was _ashamed_ of him. Ashamed of seeing the old family friend, the former Head of Slytherin _being_ this way?

He knew his current situation was nothing to be proud of, he knew that by the Malfoy standards his predicament was likely deemed a failure... but seeing the half-embarrassed, half-pitying expression on Draco's face really did drive the point home, more than a thousand words might have.

He didn't know what to do about it, and more to the point, he didn't know how to combat the onslaught of absolute, senseless, brutal rage that came with the realization. His hand balled tightly into a fist, he struck out against the first surface that presented itself: the cellar wall. When he withdrew his hand, his knuckles were bloodied, but the rage had receded from boiling point to a quiet simmer.

Feeling sickened by the encounter, Severus sat down at his desk and buried his head in his hands.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Talking to Percy at times seemed like talking to a wall, and this was just one of such times. Once again, Harry made a valiant attempt to convince his brother-in-law to let him personally interrogate the prisoners that they had captured while liberating the compound where Snape had been held.

Once again, Percy replied to Harry's request with the entirely predictable _Why_, clearly indicating that no reason would be sufficient to justify a breach of protocol of this magnitude.

"Because we're having trouble dismantling the Underground, in case you haven't noticed. We need a breakthrough, and it's not here. I feel like we're missing something," Harry explained yet again with dwindling patience. "I think we aren't asking the right questions."

"Fine. Give me the list of questions you want asked, and I'll make sure they are asked during the next interrogation."

"I don't _know_ what I want to ask. I'll have to play it by ear. Structured interviews can only go so far. I need to watch the person I'm talking to, read their body language, see what they're like, and interact with what they're telling me. Interrogating someone from a script just can't do that."

"I don't like this at all," Percy said quietly, and turned to look at Harry intently. "When Diggory finds out that I'm breaking the rules for you..."

"I know," Harry agreed. "But I promise, I won't do anything stupid. All I want to do is talk."

Percy shook his head again, but Harry could tell that his resolve was beginning to weaken.

"Percy, what if there's another terrorist attack? What if more Muggles, or wizards, die? Then what? Are you going to be able to tell yourself that you did all you could, just because you've played by the rules?"

Percy bit his lip and bowed his head in resignation. "Fine. Tomorrow, I'll get you a pass to Azkaban."

Harry's grin became wider. "Thanks. I owe you one."

Percy's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, you do. Harry?.."

"Hmm?"

"Really, really, don't do anything stupid."

**o-o-o-o-o**

It wasn't until afternoon that Draco finally knocked on the door of Severus' study.

"What?" Severus demanded.

"Can I come in?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Well, can you come out then?"

Severus sighed and pushed the book he was reading aside. He had spent several hours trying to read an old Potions text, only to realize with absolute dismay how much he'd forgotten, and how difficult it was to focus on the subject that used to come easily and naturally to him.

"Fine. Enter," Severus said, and the door opened slightly, with Draco poking his head inside.

Slowly, Draco surveyed the study that at this point was unmistakably Severus' – from the books on the shelves, to small pictures that Pansy had brought in and put up on the walls.

"This is all yours?" Draco asked quietly, still standing at the entrance, clearly finding it difficult to believe that Potter could be a considerate host.

"I assure you, the paintings of snakes aren't Potter's," Severus said dryly, causing Draco to chuckle a little.

"I suppose not."

"What do you want now?" Severus snapped impatiently.

"To apologize. I'm sorry... about the cat," Draco said awkwardly.

Severus finally looked up at Draco, and winced, seeing the traces of tear-tracks on the face of the young man Severus had known since he was a little child. As much as Severus held on to his grudges, he could never stay angry with Draco for very long. The remnants of irritation had faded away, replaced with worry and concern.

"It's all right," Severus said simply. "What's going on with you?"

"I don't know," Draco muttered disgruntledly, making a few small steps down the staircase, and sitting down on one of the steps, hugging his body with his arms. "I'm just so angry all the time. Even before father died, but now... I guess I felt like you were defending Potter, and got angry again." Draco's eyes flashed with bright rage. "Why _aren't_ you angry with him? It's his fault too, you know... that you..."

Severus found himself shrugging slightly. "It's too late to talk about whose fault what was. It's been seven years. Things are different now."

"Things are different," Draco repeated venomously, but seeing the wary look on Severus' face, managed to hold back whatever spiteful remark was ready to escape his lips. "Sorry," he said again. "Look, why don't you come up. Let's play a game of chess or something."

"It's been too long. I doubt I remember the rules of the game."

Draco sighed. "You and me both. I haven't played since... well, since school, actually."

Severus stared at him with surprise. "That's a shame. You used to be very good at it."

Draco smirked. "Well, if we can't get into it, there's always Exploding Snap. What do you say?"

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Harry returned home, he found the house quiet and dark. Severus had gone to sleep, and Draco was waiting for Harry, curled into himself on the couch, with a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky on the floor next to him.

"How did it go?" Harry asked, resting his bag on the floor and settling into an armchair across from Draco.

"What took you so bloody long?" Draco demanded. "And don't try and tell me that you work until midnight."

Harry looked up at Draco with surprise. He'd stayed out late intentionally, imagining that Severus and Draco would be spending the day catching up, and talking until the wee hours. Apparently, he'd been wrong. He wanted to ask again how the visit went, but the grim, unhappy look on Draco's face didn't inspire confidence.

"I'm sorry," Harry said simply. "I won't stay out late next time you're in."

"Doesn't matter," Draco spat. "I won't be back. I'll still help out as much as I can, but I won't be back."

"Really? Why?"

"It's just too much," Draco whispered with a tremor in his voice. "I can't take it. It's too hard... seeing him here, like this – and..."

"And you've decided to ditch him in order to make things easier for yourself," Harry said ruthlessly, not at all mollified by Draco's explanation.

Draco stood up abruptly, glaring at Harry with a murderous expression on his face.

"Potter..."

"Stop," Harry said flatly. Whatever sympathy he probably should have felt for Draco, simply wasn't there. Instead, there was only irritation at Draco's utter self-centeredness, and anger at his refusal to acknowledge how far Severus had come in such a short time. Harry briefly recalled his conversation with Marietta, and her mentioning that her father didn't like sick or needy people – and when his annoyance had reached its peak, Harry spoke again. "Draco, for once in your life, stop wallowing in misery, and simply do the right thing. Put someone else first, even before your own feelings, however sacrosanct they might seem to you."

Harry knew that he'd hit a nerve, or a whole bundle of them, when Draco winced, as if he'd been slapped.

"You're a git, Potter," Draco said with disgust.

"Thank you. Are you going to come back?"

"Yes," Draco said reluctantly.

"Good. Look forward to it. Now, get out."

Draco smiled mirthlessly, and headed towards the Floo. Harry watched him depart numbly. For a few moments Harry wondered if he should have been more understanding, but then he remembered work again, and all concern for Draco vanished from his mind.

It was well past midnight, but going to bed wasn't an option, as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry settled back into his armchair, and reached for the bag filled with the transcripts detailing interrogations of Death Eaters that he'd brought from work. The records dated back five years, and Harry began reading through them yet again, not knowing what exactly he was looking for this time, but determined to find it.

**To Be Continued...**


	28. Morsmordre

**Morsmordre**

Percy was a git, Harry thought absently, walking through the hallways of Azkaban, but at least he was a _useful_ git, finally deigning to pull some strings and grant him a restricted use Portkey, and access to the prisoners.

Exhausted after a nearly sleepless night, Harry winced with disdain, sensing the presence of the Dementors, and not liking it one bit. So much for attempting reforms, and so much for progress. All the work that he had done while Kingsley was in charge had all but gone down the drain since Amos Diggory took over.

When Harry finally reached the cell, the first prisoner had been already prepped for him, specifically pulled off the prison bed, and restrained to a chair by a body-binding spell. Harry shut the cell door and stared. The man looked shaggy and miserable. Harry knew him to be twenty six years old, but the severe lines crossing his forehead made him look much older.

The prisoner glared at Harry furiously and struggled slightly against the spell binding him.

"No use," Harry said calmly, reaching into his pocket to produce the vial of Veritaserum. "Open your mouth."

The prisoner shook his head slightly and kept his lips tightly shut.

His mood already foul enough from sleep deprivation, and a bitter argument with Draco the night before, Harry shrugged. "I'd much rather not force-feed you, but if you insist, that can be arranged."

The prisoner's eyes flashed unadulterated rage, but he complied. Harry brought the vial of Veritaserum to his mouth, and allowed several drops to fall on the man's tongue. The prisoner swallowed, and Harry waited patiently for the man's expression to relax slightly as the disinhibiting effect of the potion took place.

"What's your name?" Harry demanded.

"Myles Ogden."

"Age?"

"Twenty-six."

Harry snorted under his breath. "I suppose being on the run like a hunted animal doesn't do much for your looks, does it?"

"No," the prisoner said indifferently.

"You were eighteen years old when the final battle took place," Harry mused.

"You're wrong," Ogden said numbly, staring vacantly ahead. "The final battle hasn't even began."

Harry smirked derisively. "Oh really? So what's the grand plan for bringing down the Ministry?"

"I don't know," Ogden said with obvious satisfaction.

"When did you join Voldemort?" Harry demanded.

"February of 1998," Ogden said.

Three months prior to Voldemort's final defeat, Harry thought.

"Picked the losing side just before the end, did you? Not very clever."

"I'm not the one who picked the wrong side," Ogden said, and a malicious smirk appeared on his lips.

Harry shut his eyes, and suddenly, in spite of himself, the image of Severus Snape, bloodied and covered by a tattered robe, flashed before his eyes of its own accord.

"Tell me about Severus Snape," Harry said evenly. He hadn't been planning on asking that question, but a wave of cold rage welled up suddenly and unexpectedly and he asked the question before giving himself a chance to reconsider. "Why did you capture him? Didn't you have your hands full, running for your lives?"

"We thought he was one of us when we took him," Ogden said simply. "We didn't know the Dark Lord himself had ordered his death. While he was unconscious, we had a chance to view the Pensieve we'd retrieved from your Headmaster's office. By the time the traitor woke up, we were very... unhappy with him."

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What did you do with his Pensieve?"

"Destroyed it," Ogden said smugly. "Which was a shame. The amount of fun we had with it..."

Harry found his hand clenching into a fist so tight that his fingernails were digging into his palm.

"Did you personally torture him?" Harry asked almost calmly.

Ogden's smirk twisted into something genuinely scary and ugly. "I didn't need to... much. By the time he came my way, he was good as gold. Very... obliging." Ogden's gaze studied Harry's face intently, scouring it for sings of weakness. "Then again, if you're as close to him as you seem to be, you likely noticed that already."

Without any thought to what he was doing, Harry delivered a brutal punch to Ogden's nose. Something cracked, and a small trickle of blood ran down the man's face. Ogden grunted, but didn't cry out. Instead, he stared at Harry triumphantly.

"That's against your regulations, I believe. Not to mention, against your highly advertised moral code..."

Harry leaned to whisper in Ogden's ear. "Guess what? Nobody will know. I could pull you apart limb from limb, claim self defense, and I assure you, nobody will mind, or even notice."

To Harry's grim satisfaction, blood drained from Ogden's cheeks, and the smirk vanished without a trace.

"You really are … special," Harry muttered with disgust, lowering his bloodied hand. "You joined Voldemort three months prior to his defeat. You must have managed to distinguish yourself quite a bit in his eyes, to be marked so quickly? What did you do? Murder children? Torture small animals?"

"No," Ogden said quietly.

"Then what was so extraordinary about you?" Harry demanded. "Getting marked was supposed to be a great honor among your kind. What did you do to convince Voldemort to mark you?"

"Voldemort never marked me," Ogden said, and for the first time, a hint of worry crossed his face.

Harry scowled, remembering the brief profile on Ogden he'd read before heading into the interrogation. He clearly recalled that the profile mentioned the Dark Mark...

Harry drew out his wand, and uttered a quick spell to slice through the sleeve of Ogden's prison robe. On his forearm, the Dark Mark was black, and clearly visible against the pale, filthy skin. For a brief, insane moment, Harry was about to scream at the prisoner, and accuse him of lying – except...

_The prisoner was under Veritaserum. The prisoner's Occlumency skills were minimal. He wasn't lying. _

Harry stared at the image of the skull and the serpent again, studying every detail and nuance of the mark. Somehow it seemed different from Snape's. Nothing that Harry could put his finger on, but... something was different about it, and Harry didn't know what.

"When did you receive the Dark Mark?" Harry asked, feeling as if his reason had parted ways with his tongue.

"I received the Dark Mark three months ago," the prisoner said.

"How's that possible?" Harry demanded. "Who marked you?"

"One of the First Ones. Nott."

"The original Death Eaters are now marking the new followers?" Harry clarified.

"Yes."

A chill, like a trickle of ice-cold water, ran down Harry's spine. The repercussions of this new development in the Underground were enormous. Harry couldn't believe that they had missed something this important...

"When did the Marking of the new recruits start?" Harry demanded.

"Four months ago."

_No wonder they hadn't caught it until now..._

"Why are you doing it?" Harry asked, even though the answer was blindingly obvious by now.

"Same reasons as before," Ogden said. "To ensure loyalty, and to establish a network of undetectable communications between the top of the hierarchy and the rest of us. This way," Ogden continued gleefully, "we can plan any terrorist act, any subversive activity, without any risk of the communications being intercepted by you and your kind. And we will." Ogden's unpleasant, infuriating smile was back, and his eyes narrowed, becoming thin, angry slits. "If you think things have been bad so far for you and your precious post-war utopia, you haven't seen anything yet."

"The communications will spread through the Dark Mark to everyone who is Marked," Harry mused. Everyone, including Snape... Harry grinned triumphantly. Snape's survival and rescue was a definite glitch in the Underground's plans. With Snape being a part of the intangible, undetectable network, the Underground did not stand a chance.

Ogden stared at Harry, clearly amused, probably guessing Harry's thoughts. "You're still thinking about _him_?_ His _days are numbered. Don't think you can protect him from us. We will find him and kill him." Ogden laughed out loud, and sneered. "But take this message to your new pet, Harry Potter: he doesn't need to fear. This time, we won't drag it out for years, or even days. Delaying killing him was a mistake. When we recapture him, we'll finish him off quickly, before you can even blink."

Whatever hope for self-control Harry may have had, was lost, hopelessly and irrevocably. He delivered another punch to the prisoner's face, and the man went limp on the chair, with his head dropping until his chin dug into his chest.

A moment later, Harry ran out of the cell, slamming the door behind him. He nodded to a guard waiting outside to let him know he was done, and headed towards the exit, to take the Portkey back to London.

Severus. Severus was in danger. At the moment, Harry couldn't think of anything else.

It was Tuesday. On Tuesdays, Severus worked for Hannah at the Leaky Cauldron. All alone, in the rooftop garden, accessible by broom, and possibly Apparition... Harry's fast walk changed to a sprint, as he ran towards the doors.

The Portkey brought him to the MoM headquarters. Not wasting any time, Harry Apparated to the doorstep of the Leaky Cauldron, and burst inside.

Hannah greeted him with a surprised look on her face.

"Harry?"

"Where's Severus?" Harry demanded.

"Up there," she said. "The rooftop garden. Harry, what..."

Harry stormed past her, knocking shoulders with her, running upstairs with his wand drawn, dreading to find an empty space with overturned flower beds, and Severus gone.

He burst into the roof top garden, and stopped in his tracks, as relief flooded him.

Nothing had happened to Severus while Harry was gone. Severus was here.

Absorbed in his work, he was crouched by the flower bed, his back turned to Harry. His robe was down to his waist, and his undershirt, apart from some traces of mud and green stains, was blindingly white in the afternoon sun. The man's skin was no longer ghastly pale, but had acquired a slight copper tinge from the summer sun.

"Severus?" Harry whispered, the words catching in his throat.

Severus turned around at the sound of Harry's voice and stared up at him. Harry let out a breath he was sure he'd been holding for eternity.

"Potter?" Severus asked, rising to his feet. "What's wrong?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. For a few long moments, all he could do was grin like an idiot, and stare at Severus speechlessly, his heart thrilling at the sight.

When was the last time he had felt so relieved and elated to see someone? Maybe when he'd recovered Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. Maybe when the Final Battle was over, and Harry found Ron and Hermione again. Or maybe not even then, because Harry couldn't remember being this dizzy with relief, and his heart pounding so hard in his chest.

Severus watched him silently, while Harry crossed the distance between them and gathered him up into a tight embrace, his bloodied hands, with the wand still in his fist, closing around Severus. Severus reciprocated the gesture a moment later, and his soil-covered fingers dug into Harry's shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked quietly, while holding Harry in a tight grip. "Harry? You're shaking."

Was he? He hadn't noticed.

"Everything is fine," Harry managed to say finally. "But something came up. We need to talk."

**To Be Continued...**


	29. Safeguards, Part I

**Safeguards, Part I**

When Severus and Harry left the rooftop garden and made it back to the empty pub, Harry gave Hannah a quick nod, and she withdrew instantly, leaving them alone. Not trusting anything at this point, Harry cast a silencing charm around himself and Severus and sat down. Severus followed suit, watching him intently.

Harry hesitated for a few seconds, debating the wisdom of informing Severus of this new development. Marietta's warning about Severus' need for a stress-free, calm, restful environment was still fresh in Harry's mind, but by the same token, he didn't feel he had the right to hide this sort of information from Severus.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked again, and his gaze took note of the blood stains on Harry's knuckles. "Have you been fighting?"

"No, not fighting. Well, not exactly. It's not important," Harry denied quickly, casting a cleansing spell on his hands.

"Well then, what _is_ important?" Severus demanded, with a slight note of impatience entering his voice.

"I just found out something at work," Harry said reluctantly. There was no easy way to deliver the news, so he opted for the direct approach. "The Death Eaters – the Underground – are conjuring the Dark Marks on new recruits. I think most of them have been marked by now."

Severus' face fell slightly. "I see," he whispered.

"Did you know about it?" Harry probed.

"No," Severus said numbly. "I would have told you by now. My hosts... did not share much information with me, you understand."

"I know that," Harry said quickly. "I just thought maybe you noticed something..."

"Maybe I should have noticed it," Severus said with a faint note of self-reprimand in his voice. "Or maybe I should have worked it out. But I didn't. In any event, it's supposed to be..."

"Impossible, I know," Harry conceded. "Do you understand what that means?"

Severus nodded. "Of course. They need an undetectable way to summon each other, to plan their terrorist activities." The dark eyes lifted to meet Harry's gaze. "I suppose the next logical step for them would be to attempt to recapture me and kill me."

"Yes," Harry admitted. "Draco, too, I assume?" Suddenly and belatedly, Harry realized that while busy panicking about Severus, he'd forgotten all about Draco and his Dark Mark...

"Maybe not," Severus mused. "Not many knew about Draco's Dark Mark. In fact, the only ones who knew were Bellatrix, Pettigrew, and his parents."

"Why?" Harry asked with undisguised surprise. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you..."

"At first, the Dark Lord didn't reveal Draco's Mark because he was hoping to use him as a spy in school," Severus explained matter-of-factly. "After Draco's... failure, the Dark Lord was deeply disappointed in him, and regretted bestowing the honor of the Mark on him. Showing off Draco's Dark Mark to others would have seemed like admitting to an error, and..."

"Voldemort himself told him not to squawk?" Harry clarified with undisguised amusement. "He may have saved Draco's life."

Severus smirked unhappily. "The question is, whether Draco himself told anyone."

"He told Mr. Borgin," Harry said, remembering the owner of Borgin and Burkes. "But Borgin was killed in cross-fire shortly after the last battle. Some other Slytherins know, I think. I'm sure that Pansy and Blaise would know, not to mention Goyle..."

"Then you'd better warn them not to... squawk, as you so elegantly phrased it," Severus said dryly. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" Harry asked with a slight frown.

"Who did _you_ inform of Draco's Mark?" Severus demanded, sounding short on patience.

"Well," Harry's frown became deeper, as he raked his memory. "Not many people actually," Harry said, surprising himself by the realization. "Dumbledore, obviously, but I doubt he would have told anyone. Hermione and Ron. Ginny. Kingsley. Molly and Arthur know, too," Harry added sheepishly. "But that's it."

"That's it?" Severus repeated irritably. "I can only imagine how far the gossip has spread by now..."

"It hasn't," Harry said firmly. "After the war was over, I asked them all to keep quiet about it, and they did."

Severus stared at Harry with barely concealed disbelief. "Why did you do that?"

"Well – Draco wasn't exactly in the Ministry's good graces, and I… didn't want to make things more difficult for him than they already were," Harry said hesitantly.

"I see," Severus said quietly, and something softened in his eyes. "That was... good of you, Potter." For a moment, Severus looked like he was about to say something else, something more than that, but he obviously changed his mind, and gave Harry a barely noticeable, mild smile.

Harry offered back a small smile of his own, and for a while, they simply sat in silence, immersed in thought. Resting his elbows on the table, Severus folded his hands, and rested his chin on them. The expression on Severus' face was still remarkably calm, with only a small hint of worry evident by the slightly deepened frown on his forehead.

"Potter," Severus said softly. "However it works out in the end, I should thank you for your efforts."

For a brief moment, Harry had almost missed the hidden subtext in those words, but when the full meaning of Severus' statement reached him, he felt his stomach drop.

"There's no _however_," Harry said flatly, indignant at the suggestion. "They won't recapture you."

"You don't know that," Severus pointed out. "My... colleagues can be very persistent, and resourceful, when sufficiently motivated." The dark eyes flashed with pure terror, in contrast to the measured tone of voice and the impassive expression on Severus' face.

"We'll work it out," Harry said calmly. "We'll up the security on my house, as well as the homes of everyone who's helping. Speaking of which, we need to ask Hannah about how secure the rooftop garden here is. Do you still want to work here, or would you rather just stay home?" Harry checked.

"I want to work," Severus snapped irritably, and Harry was almost relieved to see the panic in his gaze give way to genuine rage. "I hope you don't suggest that I remain shut up in the house..."

"I would never suggest that," Harry said with a small smile. "Nobody likes being locked up."

He'd learned that much after Sirius' foolhardy rush to the Department of Mysteries, after the cabin fever of staying at Grimmauld Place had set in. All in all, he suddenly thought that Sirius and Snape were probably more alike than either man would have wanted to admit, but seeing the still murderous look on Severus' face, held back from voicing his observation.

"Let's talk to Hannah," Harry said, taking off the silencing charm.

Hannah walked in the moment he called for her, and gave Harry a small smile.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"There's been a new development," Harry said. "I can't go into details, but the short version is that the Death Eaters are planning to recapture Severus."

She winced slightly, but didn't appear to be especially shocked by the news.

"I imagined they might," she said reluctantly and looked at Severus. "I suppose losing you was quite a blow to their ego."

Severus snorted derisively.

"How secure is the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry demanded.

"Very," Hanna said seriously, joining Harry and Severus at the table. "There are strong wards on the entire space, including the rooftop garden. Flitwick and McGonagall helped us put up the wards six years ago," Hannah explained. "They taught the technique to Neville and me as well. We re-examine them every month, and modify the configuration at random to prevent tampering."

Harry's mouth opened wide in shock as he stared at Hannah. The hostess of the Leaky Cauldron was all childlike innocence on the surface: pink round cheeks, blond hair gathered into pigtails, a sweet smile... but the note of steel in her voice as she spoke about the protective wards made Harry realize very quickly that he'd underestimated his friend.

"I had no idea," Harry said. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you – but why such security measures? Was someone after Neville, after the war?"

Her eyes darted quickly in Severus' direction, and she took a deep breath.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" she asked softly. "I really don't want it to be public knowledge."

"Of course we won't tell anyone," Harry assured her quickly, and Severus gave a firm nod as well.

"Neville's parents," Hannah explained. "They'd made a lot of enemies back in their time."

"How?" Harry blurted out in spite of himself. For as long as he'd known Neville, his parents were the epitome of harmlessness, two mild-spoken, gentle people, with retrograde amnesia, and inability to form new memories. For the life of him, Harry couldn't imagine them having enemies.

Hanna bit her lip slightly, and winced painfully. Severus, however, didn't ask anything.

"Before their current state, they used to be Aurors, Potter," Severus reminded him evenly. "Aurors tend to make enemies." In spite of the calm, there was a slight note of venom in Severus' voice that Harry couldn't quite figure out the reason for.

"Especially such as Alice and Frank," Hannah said softly. "They were excellent at what they did, but... quite ruthless. Not unlike Mad-Eye... well you can imagine."

Harry frowned, remembering what he knew about the First War. "I know that the Aurors were authorized to use Unforgivables," Harry said. "So -"

"So, they did. Harry, we've requested their classified work records from the First War, and... well, they'd tortured and killed a number of Death Eaters and suspects at one time," Hannah said. "A large number. At this point, I'm not entirely sure if what Bellatrix did to them was as much about interrogation as it was about revenge. And you know, old grudges die hard. Once we brought them home, we knew that it might be only a matter of time until a disgruntled family member, or an embittered survivor, decided to exact his final revenge on them. So, we set up the wards," Hannah completed her tale matter-of-factly.

"You never told me," Harry said quietly. "Why not? Hannah! Ron and I could have helped with the wards, and..."

Hannah smiled ruefully. "I know, Harry. We don't really talk much about it. You won't tell anyone, will you?" she asked with new worry on her face.

"Of course not," Harry said quickly, only to realize that she was addressing her question to Severus, and not him.

Severus stared at her grimly for a few minutes, and shook his head. "No. I won't."

"I've often wondered if you and them had a history," Hannah said quietly, and hesitantly. "You know, the way you took a dislike to Neville right away, back in school... No offense, Sir, but it made me wonder later on, maybe you had something against his parents..."

Severus rewarded her with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, I had something against them," he said with a touch of loathing in his voice. "People like them, and Moody, their methods, and their gleeful performance of their duties, made it very difficult for me to believe that one side was qualitatively different from the other, where the war was concerned, and that I had made the correct choice by changing loyalties." The angry spark in his eyes lingered for a few moments before vanishing. "However," he added more softly, "maybe it's time to allow the past to remain where it belongs. At least where Alice and Frank are concerned."

"Yes," Hannah said with a deep sigh. "It can't go on like that, can it? Revenge and cruelty without end... it has to stop somewhere, somehow."

Harry scowled slightly, as he briefly remembered his own behavior earlier that morning, and beating the prisoner into unconsciousness, before running out to look for Severus. Hannah's words weren't quite enough to make him feel guilty about it, but he was feeling slightly uneasy.

"Look, I've got to go," Harry said, standing up abruptly. "I need to get back to work. Nobody knows where I went, and..."

Severus stared at Harry with a half-amused smirk. "You've left work without informing anyone? Just to rush to my rescue?"

Harry shrugged with slight embarrassment, realizing how foolish his dramatic entrance must have looked to both Hannah and Severus. "It's nothing. Nobody will even notice I was gone."

"Lovely workplace you have there, Potter," Severus said snidely. "They must value you very much."

"Jealous?" Harry dared to tease back. "We'll see about getting you a job with the Ministry then."

Severus shuddered slightly. "If that's your plan for me, just auction me off to the lowest bidder and be done with me," he said dryly, causing Hannah to chuckle insanely.

"Don't even hope for something like that," Harry said softly, grinning ear to ear. "You're stuck with me."

**o-o-o-o-o**

His reassurances to Severus notwithstanding, by the time Harry made his way to the Auror Office, his absence had been noticed, and everything had already hit the proverbial fan. He heard whispers of concern in the hallways, but didn't stop to talk to anyone. Instead, Harry made his way to his office as fast as he could, eager to get the nonsense over with.

It was no great surprise that Percy was already waiting for him there, with a menacing scowl on his face, and his arms folded on his chest.

"Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Percy snapped at him, the moment the door shut behind Harry. "You brutalize a prisoner, and just disappear? Harry!"

"Brutalize a prisoner?" Harry retorted mockingly, as a fresh wave of rage welled up of its own accord. "He's lucky I didn't kill him on the spot!"

Percy groaned. "Harry, that's precisely the reason that the field officers who take part in capturing the prisoners aren't allowed to conduct interrogations. You see things that cause you to react emotionally, and..." Percy shook his head with disgust. "You _promised_, Harry. You promised you wouldn't do anything stupid. I don't know why I actually believed you. Now, I'm in hot water, Diggory is on the warpath, and your own job is hanging by a thread..."

"I realize all that," Harry cut him off abruptly. "And I'm sorry I've caused you trouble. But it was still the right thing to do, and you know it. You've reviewed the interrogation record, haven't you?"

"Yes," Percy said. "The Dark Mark spreading through the Underground. It's really something."

"I say this information is worth a few broken rules, or noses," Harry pointed out. "This is big, Percy. It's probably the biggest thing about the Underground we've uncovered in the last two years."

"I know," Percy said unhappily. "That's probably the only reason Diggory didn't owl you with an order to pack your desk and get out."

Harry smirked. "I wish I was there to see the look on his face when he heard the news," Harry said.

Percy's face was paler than usual, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. For a second, Percy looked like he was thinking something over. Eventually, he worked out in his own mind whatever was troubling him, pulled out his wand, and cast a silencing charm on the office door.

"About the look on Diggory's face," Percy murmured, bemused. "He seemed surprised. But... not as surprised as I thought he would be."

"Oh." Harry scowled in spite of himself. "You think he already knew?"

"It's possible," Percy said noncommittally. "I don't know. Maybe."

"He wanted to keep the information from the Auror Office," Harry said with confidence. "The bastard is sabotaging our work. I _knew_ it!"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Percy warned instantly.

"I'm not jumping to conclusions!" Harry protested. "That's why he was in such a hurry to get the other prisoners Kissed... he didn't want me to know about the Dark Mark spreading through the Underground."

"Maybe," Percy said, still sounding reluctant. "Maybe he's taken matters into his own hands. Maybe he has a plan of his own, that he doesn't want anyone else to know about..."

_Or maybe he doesn't care if the Underground is thriving,_ Harry thought grimly. _Maybe all he wants is political power, and what better way to grab power, than when the world is falling apart._..

"Maybe," Harry said out loud. "All right, thanks, Percy."

"You're welcome," Percy said. "Take the rest of the day off, Harry. I imagine you'll need to up the security on your home. Install new wards and all, to make sure Snape is safe."

Harry couldn't conceal the shock at Percy's words.

"Since when do you care about Snape? I thought you didn't believe him..."

Percy shrugged. "I don't. Your blind trust in him is heartwarming, but I'm still convinced he was playing both sides and it backfired. But... He's the only one with the Dark Mark that you, and by extension, the Auror Office, has got access to. And while I don't trust Snape, I don't trust Diggory anymore, either."

Harry smirked unhappily. "You really are a git, Percy."

"You're welcome, Harry," Percy said, unamused. "Oh and before you go home, I want my Portkey back."

With a resigned sigh, Harry produced the Portkey and tossed it to Percy. "Here," he said. "Thanks again."

**To Be Continued...**

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_**Author's Note: **_**Many**** thanks again to my wonderful beta, **_**whitehound**_**; and I'd like to take this opportunity to acknowledge her essay that influenced not only this chapter, but also some of the chapters about to come. **

**Link to the essay (remove the spaces): www. whitehound. co. uk/Fanfic/good_or_bad_Snape. htm****  
**


	30. Safeguards, Part II

**Safeguards, Part II**

Before leaving work, Harry stopped by Ron's office, and pulled him off duty as well. Ron didn't ask what the problem was, and Harry assumed that Percy had already briefed him. Together, they firecalled Hermione, and a few others, and half an hour later a small number of the Light Brigade members gathered in Harry's home: Marietta, looking a bit sleepy, Draco, who appeared to be even more irritated than usual, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Luna.

"Creating your own Inner Circle, Potter?" Draco taunted, dropping into an armchair and looking at Harry with contemptuous amusement.

"Trust me, if I were, you wouldn't be a part of it," Harry said dryly. "I've got news. It's important, and it's top secret, and I expect you all to keep your mouth shut and not blab outside of this room. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded quickly.

"The Death Eaters are conjuring Dark Marks on new recruits. I'm guessing that the Dark Mark has spread through most of the Underground by now," Harry said. "The idea is for the Underground to establish an undetectable network of communication, and..."

"Severus!" Draco snapped, bolting to sit up as if he'd been burned.

"I know," Harry said quickly, stopping Draco in mid sentence. "I imagine that they are making plans to recapture him..."

Draco bit his lip, looking sickened. "Potter..." he said softly. "Look, you can't let that happen."

"It won't happen," Harry said flatly. "By the way, Draco, your own Dark Mark places you in danger..."

Draco glared at Harry angrily. "You've told someone about it? Potter! Fuck! You promised you wouldn't!"

"Very few people know," Harry said flatly. "Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Kingsley, Molly and Arthur. I'd be more worried about your Slytherin housemates, who might know, and still have connections to the Underground," Harry pointed out ruthlessly.

"Nobody knows!" Draco dismissed the matter quickly. "Well, Blaise, Pansy, Daphne, and Gregory know, but that's all..."

"And you're sure they won't tell anyone?" Harry pressed, looking at Draco with concern.

Draco nodded vigorously. "They won't. We have an understanding."

"What about Astoria?" Hermione asked softly. "You two used to date, right?"

"That was a long time ago," Draco said dismissively. "We aren't even in touch much. She doesn't know. And even if she did, she wouldn't tell anyone."

"You're sure about that?" Ron asked with a small frown.

"So far, it's been the Ravenclaws blabbing about things that should have been kept quiet," Draco said irritably. "Unlike the lot of you, Slytherins know how to keep secrets."

Luna opened her mouth, clearly about to object in no uncertain terms on behalf of the Ravenclaws, but Harry placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Look, anybody can make mistakes, that's not the point," Harry said quickly. "The point is that we need to adjust the wards on all our homes – and the homes of everyone involved. We shouldn't have any weak links..."

Ron nodded quickly, catching on instantly. "Remember the configuration we developed three years ago? It's tied to the home owner, and the wards are so tight, not even a fly will get through..."

"Right," Harry agreed. "By the way, the new wards can also detect the Polyjuice Potion, so we won't need to worry about someone trying to impersonate one of us... I also think we need to set up an alarm that will inform everyone should any of our houses come under attack. That way, if anyone decides to use brute force to break in, the entire group can respond."

"I might not be able to respond, depending on where I am," Marietta pointed out gruffly. "I can't very well walk out in the middle of a surgery to rush to the rescue, no offense..."

"That's all right," Hermione said softly, clearly remembering the fiasco of their fifth year all too well. "Either way, you probably shouldn't be involved in a direct action. You don't want to attract too much attention to yourself..."

"Thanks," Marietta muttered, looking absolutely miserable. "Fuck it all. I promised my mother I wouldn't get myself, or her, into any more trouble like this..."

"Marietta, listen, it'll be all right," Harry said firmly. "We'll secure your home as soon as we're done here. Should something happen, we'll all respond at once. And..." Harry hesitated for a moment, before continuing. "If you like, I can look for another healer to consult if something goes wrong with Severus..."

"No," Marietta cut him off abruptly. "I'll still help out. Just... try not to advertise my involvement, all right?"

"All right," Harry said quietly, deeply relieved that Marietta wasn't bailing on Severus now that things were getting dicey. "Well, let's get started, everyone. We've got a lot of work to do."

They began to reconfigure the wards at once. It took them the better part of an hour to secure Harry's home, and once done, everyone went to the Burrow. Molly and Arthur took the news about the Death Eater threat in their stride, and opened their wards for Harry and Ron to work on.

It was about eleven in the evening by the time they had finished securing the home of every member of the Light Brigade with painstaking diligence. The only person who'd put up any fight over the intrusion into their wards was Blaise, but Pansy, who came along with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco, told him not to be an idiot, and Blaise relented, granting them full access.

They even dropped by Percy's new place, and advised him, as well as a slightly stunned Penelope, that they were about to improve their home security. Percy looked at Harry and Ron with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, but didn't argue. The last, but not least, was Astoria Greengrass, whose name Draco brought up as an afterthought.

When they reached her home and knocked, the young woman snapped at someone, presumably a child, to get back to bed. When she opened the door, Astoria seemed almost more surprised to see Draco than the Gryffindors, but after a brief, if incomplete explanation, allowed Ron and Harry to modify her wards as well.

By the time the four left her home, everyone looked as exhausted as Harry felt.

Draco stared at all of them with a mixture of embarrassment and hesitation.

"Potter? Weasley? Thanks," Draco said suddenly, and without waiting for a response, Disapparated with a loud crack.

"You're welcome," Harry said into the empty space, wondering if something significant had just taken place.

Done for the night, Hermione, Ron and Harry Apparated to the doorstep of Harry's home and Hermione hugged Harry tightly. Harry stood rigid in her embrace, sensing a serious conversation coming up, and not being in the mood for it.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked finally.

Harry groaned, freeing himself from her arms. "Yes, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Are you sure?" Ron prodded. "You went a bit wild at work today, according to Percy..."

"Percy is being a prick," Harry denied instantly. "Just ignore him."

"Percy said you beat the shit out of one of the prisoners that you weren't supposed to be interrogating in the first place," Ron pointed out, clearly unwilling to let the matter slide without a discussion.

"I didn't," Harry protested. "I just punched him."

Ron stared at Harry dubiously.

"Twice," Harry muttered. "I punched him twice. That's all. No big deal."

"Percy says you gave him a concussion, and nearly broke his neck," Ron said, his brows furrowing to form a deep frown.

"What if I did?" Harry said unrepentantly, as the familiar wave of anger flooded him again. "Ron, come on, what difference does it make? The Dementors can Kiss him with a broken neck or not."

"So you're saying his life and physical integrity have no value, because he's going to be executed in a few days anyway," Hermione clarified, with a small tremor in her voice, staring at Harry as if she was seeing him for the first time.

"And you seem to be almost happy about him getting Kissed," Ron pointed out. "I actually thought you were opposed to the Dementor's Kiss..."

"I am! But look - I'm just being realistic," Harry protested. "You should have heard him..."

"Somehow, during my Auror training, I must have missed the regulation that says it's fine to brutalize the prisoner when he's taunting you," Ron said dryly. "Besides, being under Veritaserum, he didn't have a choice about what he was saying..."

"Sod off, Ron," Harry spat disgruntledly. "Save some pity for those who actually deserve it."

Ron shook his head sadly.

Hermione touched Harry's elbow. "Harry, remember when we were nineteen, and Kingsley was just beginning to reform the Wizengamot, and the penal system? Remember when he told us the three of us were the youngest to ever serve on the Advisory Board to the Wizengamot? Remember how excited and proud you were?"

Harry nodded mutely, not liking where this was going.

"Remember how you said in a press conference that not even someone like Voldemort deserved the Dementor's Kiss?"

"Yes, I remember," Harry said impatiently.

"Remember when there was a debate about the use of Unforgivables by Aurors, and people were going back and forth, and you stood up, and told everyone how ashamed you were of casting Crucio on Carrow..."

"Yes," Harry admitted with a crooked, unhappy smirk. "But that was a long time ago. I really felt that way, before all this..."

Before all the reforms went down the drain, before good intentions didn't amount to much of anything, before the endless acts of terror had wrecked the Wizarding World, before Snape was found on the floor of the Death Eater compound, half-insane and nearly bleeding to death...

"What do you want from me, Hermione?" Harry spat. "Do you want me to feel _sorry_ for the scum that were torturing innocent people? Snape? Why are _you_ defending them? I thought you were on Snape's side..."

"I'm on _your_ side, Harry," Hermione said flatly. "I don't like to see you this way. I don't think being angry all the time is good for you. For that matter, it's probably not great for Snape, either, if you're allowing your work to dehumanize you, and if you come home angry every night..."

"Leave me alone," Harry snapped, becoming more and more frustrated, for the most part, because he knew that Hermione and Ron had a valid point, and he just didn't _want_ them to be right.

Hermione seemed inclined to snap back at him and continue arguing, but Ron took her hand in his and squeezed.

"Look, Harry, we're all tired, it's been a long day. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Harry said listlessly, feeling like he'd lost the argument, even if Hermione and Ron didn't exactly win it. "Thanks for everything today, all right?"

"All right," Hermione said with a small smile, and she and Ron Disapparated to return home. Harry issued a deep sigh, and opened the door to enter his home.

He smiled, as the familiar and comforting normalcy of his house enveloped him. Luna was sound asleep on the couch, and Severus was sitting in the armchair, reading. He greeted Harry with a small nod.

"Aren't you tired?" Harry asked, making his way to the sitting room, and dropping into the armchair next to Severus.

"Tired, but not sleepy," Severus said, setting the book aside. Harry glanced at it: advanced Potions research, and he smiled slightly, in spite of his weariness, feeling unspeakably relieved and delighted that Severus was slowly getting back to the things that he used to be passionate about.

"How was the rest of your day?" Severus asked.

"Fine."

"You look far from fine," Severus observed, studying his face intently. "Anything the matter, apart from the obvious?"

"No," Harry said reluctantly, and Severus issued a dry, hoarse laugh.

"If you say so."

"Hermione and I got into an argument," Harry said noncommittally, eager to be done with the conversation. "It's nothing. You know how she is when she decides she needs to lecture someone..."

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Severus said dryly, "but I can easily imagine. What was the lecture about this time?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly, really not wanting to mention the interrogation earlier today, and bring up his encounter with one of the men who'd been torturing Severus less than three months ago. Severus stared at him with an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"It's not important," Harry said after a long, strained silence.

"Ah, I see," Severus said, as if Harry had given him a complete and comprehensive answer.

"What do you see?" Harry muttered irritably.

"Earlier today, you showed up with blood on your hands, and a piece of important information that hadn't been available to you earlier. This leads me to believe that you lost your temper during an interrogation, and threw a few punches. Am I accurate?"

Harry swore inwardly. "Let me guess, you're going to lecture me too?"

Severus shrugged. "I attempted to do so for six years, without any success whatsoever. I think I'll leave the lecturing to Ms. Granger. I imagine she'll enjoy it more, and be better at it."

"Hermione is being needlessly dramatic," Harry said dismissively. "But yes, she's unhappy with me. She thinks I'm dehumanizing myself," Harry added flippantly, eager to be done with the conversation that was growing more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

"What do _you_ think?" Severus asked quietly.

Harry bit his lip. "I think he had it coming."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "That's how Macnair started out, you know," Severus murmured, and the line on his forehead deepened to form a severe frown. "He just... lost his temper, when he and his friends had captured an Auror, who'd committed some atrocities against their side. Twenty years later you had the dubious pleasure of meeting him when he'd come for Buckbeak, wielding the executioner's axe."

The quiet words hung between them in the tense silence of the room, long after the sound of them had died.

Harry stared at Severus, knowing all too well what lay beneath the mask of near-composure that Severus had painstakingly trained himself to assume in order to survive. He knew what had caused the silver dust of grey to insinuate itself prematurely into the black hair, he knew what terrors were hidden within the deep lines now crossing Severus' forehead, and he could almost physically feel the man's unease.

"Is that how you see me?" Harry whispered, trying not to be too horrified by the suggestion. "Someone like Macnair... someone like _them_?"

Severus shrugged. "No, but... you're an angry person, Potter. I am not quite sure though, whether you're angry on my behalf, or whether having me around as a perpetual victim of the villains you despise is simply giving you a convenient excuse to act in your usual, chaotic, self-righteous manner."

Harry bowed his head. Severus' words stung, but didn't inspire the burst of indignant irritation that would have undoubtedly emerged, had the same observation been made by Hermione, or Ron, or Ginny.

Harry knew that he really had been angry, angry and miserable, ever since Diggory took over. Going to work seemed an unpleasant chore at best. In fact, over the last three months, the only time he had felt truly at peace was the three weeks of stress leave he had taken to care for Severus.

Harry also couldn't deny that his temper was growing short, and his mood was becoming more and more foul every day. He could tell that from time to time, his colleagues and even friends were becoming uncomfortable around him, but for the most part, he didn't care.

But... this was different. Harry didn't _want_ Severus to have to be guarded or uneasy around him. Harry wondered privately what it was like for Severus to be completely dependent on someone who was perpetually in a foul mood... and even as the question formed itself in Harry's mind, Harry already knew the answer to that. His childhood had been spent in wretched dependency on two adults who seemed to be perpetually angry, at least around Harry. Not that Harry saw himself as a copy of Vernon by any means, but he couldn't help but wonder if deep down, Severus was unconsciously anticipating something genuinely nasty to emerge from Harry's anger that was always bubbling under the surface, ready to spill.

"Maybe I should just quit," Harry whispered, more to himself, than Severus.

"Maybe you should," Severus said matter-of-factly. "What's stopping you? Is it the money, or the fear of losing the crowds of adoring fans, should you choose to fade to obscurity?"

"Fade to obscurity? I should be so lucky." Harry knew he was sounding like a spoiled brat, and he was waiting for a suitably scathing remark from Severus. However, none came.

"What is it then?" Severus asked instead, appearing to be genuinely curious.

"Frankly, it's... being connected to the events that affect you... affect us both," Harry clarified. "There's a measure of power in knowing what's going on. If I quit now, I'll be out of the loop. I don't like that."

"I'm certain Ron Weasley will keep you in the loop," Severus said.

"Diggory will never appoint Ron in my place, if I quit," Harry pointed out. "He doesn't trust Ron..."

Severus stood up abruptly. "Then take a lesson from the Astronomy Tower, Potter," Severus said sharply, "and quit appropriately."

Harry snorted under his breath. "Are you suggesting I cast Avada Kedavra on my employer?"

Severus chuckled, appearing to be faintly entertained by the suggestion. "Far from it. All I'm saying, is that if you're about to commit suicide, career or otherwise, you should do so in style."

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Harry had gone to bed, Severus went to his study, and sat alone for a while, immersed in his own thoughts. Even though he hadn't known about the Dark Mark spreading throughout the Underground, the Death Eater threat wasn't exactly a surprise. He knew that even if everything went his way from now on, even if he regained his freedom and social status one day, he'd have to watch his back for as long as he lived. He'd resigned himself to that, for the most part. However, being helpless – being magically powerless to fight off an attack...

Severus reached for his wand. He'd taken to carrying it with him at all times, useless as it was to him at this point. Still, even though it yielded no results, he continued to try it in stubborn futility, even though each attempt brought nothing but a sharp pang of loss with it.

Severus took a deep breath and flicked his wand.

"Lumos," he whispered into the silence of the night.

Once again, nothing happened.

_Lumos_, he thought nostalgically, squinting in the undisrupted darkness of Harry's home.

**To Be Continued...**


	31. Home from the Hill

**Home From the Hill**

The following morning, Harry departed to work before Severus woke up. George Weasley and Daphne showed up to keep him company, but Severus excused himself shortly after breakfast, and isolated himself in his study.

Not having had a chance to speak to Harry after their conversation the previous night, Severus found himself growing more and more uneasy, suspecting that he'd violated all conventions of human courtesy.

No, chiding Potter under the circumstances was unwise, and comparing him to Macnair was outright stupid. After all, who was _he_ to lecture Potter on the dehumanizing effects of his work? A former Death Eater, who'd silently witnessed more atrocities than most normal people could imagine – he must have come across as, if not hypocritical, then outright ridiculous. With any luck, Harry would simply laugh the entire thing off.

Severus shook his head resignedly. If being found ridiculous and laughable was the best he could hope for... but it was still better than actually antagonizing Potter.

It was enough that he was sitting like a dead weight in Harry's home, stuck in his magical and professional powerlessness, unable to do anything useful. Even the study that Harry had generously set up for him was beginning to seem more like a cruel joke than a luxury, or a convenience. Severus sighed and slumped forward on his desk, burying his face in his hands.

He didn't notice falling asleep, alone in his wretched misery, and only woke when a familiar hand rested on his shoulder.

Severus bolted to sit up with a start.

"What time is it?" Severus asked, wondering if he'd actually slept through the entire day.

"It's noon," Harry said. "Are you tired?"

"Not especially," Severus muttered. "I didn't notice myself falling asleep. You're home early."

"Yes," Harry said. "I sent George and Daphne home. They said you didn't eat anything since morning."

"I'm not hungry."

"All right," Harry said, obviously not planning on arguing. "Let's step out into the garden. I've got something you might like."

Severus followed Harry into the garden, and was surprised to see a row of potted rose bushes, ready to be planted.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself back in Hannah's rooftop garden," Harry explained with a small smile. "I thought maybe you'd like to give me a hand planting these?"

"I can do that," Severus agreed guardedly. "Is that all?"

He was waiting for something else – some sort of follow up to yesterday's strained, unhappy conversation.

"Well, I also wanted to talk, and I thought it'd be more fun to talk while we're doing something," Harry said.

Severus sighed, anticipating a needlessly long discussion on how he should be keeping his views to himself, but didn't see any gracious way out of it. But at least Harry didn't seem irate, or even annoyed.

"Fine," Severus said, making a conscious effort to hide his reluctance.

"Fine," Harry said teasingly, and flicked his wand, summoning two sets of gardening tools.

For a few moments, they simply worked together, clearing the weeds and upturning the soil.

"Why roses?" Severus asked. "Do you like roses?"

"Not particularly," Harry said. "They're all right, I guess. Ginny loves them though. I'm going to ask her to come back home," Harry explained. "Thought it would be a nice surprise."

Severus smiled a bit, barely able to credit how much relief he felt at this statement. Since his rescue, Ginny's departure had been like an immeasurably heavy weight on his conscience. Rationally, he knew that Harry wasn't blaming him for their separation, and he also sensed that they must have had problems before he came into the picture, but still, he couldn't deny the fact that Harry's impulsive decision to bring him home was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

"Think you'll get along with Ginny and Lily?" Harry asked softly.

Severus nodded quickly. "Potter, I'm not a pleasant man, but I won't go out of my way to make things more awkward and difficult to you. I'll make myself... inconspicuous."

"You don't need to do that," Harry protested instantly. "Besides, Ginny holds you in high regard. It's me she hasn't been terribly impressed with lately... but let's hope the roses help. That, and the fact that I'm going to be a lot less wound up now that I don't work for the Auror office anymore."

Severus barely managed not to drop the small spading fork into the freshly dug hole. "I beg your pardon?"

"I quit my job," Harry said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Or to be more exact, I was fired for gross misconduct."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Severus said hesitantly, and Harry laughed out loud.

"Don't be sorry. I took your advice, you know," Harry said wryly. "To cut a long story short, I got Ron to help me quit in a way that allowed him to ingratiate himself with Diggory."

"Ron Weasley _got you fired_ at your insistence?" Severus clarified, and Harry nodded smugly.

"Yes. Ron told Diggory he was fed up with my erratic behavior, and presented him with excellent documentation of the numerous breaches of protocol I'd committed in the past six months. Then, to make things more believable, I threw a tantrum in Diggory's office. All of that was more than enough to hang me." Harry smirked unrepentantly. "Diggory told me to clean out my desk and get out, and he seemed very impressed with Ron. Probably impressed enough to appoint him as the Head of the Auror Office now that I'm gone."

"Diggory didn't find it suspicious that your best friend suddenly turned against you and caused your downfall?" Severus asked.

Harry laughed out loud. "Diggory doesn't get those kinds of subtleties. He's shady, but he doesn't have the brains to be any good at it."

"You seem immensely pleased with yourself," Severus observed, still feeling slightly stunned by Harry's matter-of-fact explanation.

"I am," Harry confirmed with a small nod. "I'm free of the job I absolutely despise, and my best friend is going to succeed me, and keep me in the loop." Harry's green eyes twinkled mischievously. "I really should thank you," Harry added more seriously. "Not just for the idea on how to quit, but... for the other stuff, too."

"Oh." Severus took a long minute to recover from the shock at the news that not only was Harry not irritated with him, but that he actually took his advice seriously. "Can you afford it? Quitting your job, that is."

"Yes," Harry said, appearing to be untroubled. "I sold a piece of property that brought a lot of money in. Don't worry, we're set for life."

"Well, I hope it works out well for you," Severus said.

"I think it will," Harry said. "I feel better already. The only question is, can you handle having me around all the time? I don't want to crowd you."

Severus sighed, as a small, barely understandable ache appeared at Harry's words.

Over the last two months, Severus had noticed that Harry barely spent any time around him, possibly to ensure that Severus didn't grow too dependent on him, but had the opportunity to form other friendships. That was an understandable, and probably a wise course of action, but it still had stung to find himself spending days without any contact with Harry. Like it or not, his connection with Harry at this point was the strongest one he had. And when Harry wasn't around, Severus missed him... and Harry's innocent question likely stung for that exact reason – that Harry couldn't even begin to imagine how much he was missed.

"You could never crowd me, Harry," Severus said softly, and from how wide Harry's eyes opened at the statement, realized that, once again, he'd said entirely too much.

However, the awkward pause didn't last long. Harry recovered quickly, and said with a wry grin, "Well, that's good news. I'd hate to have to get another job immediately, just to stay out of your way. Anyway, are you hungry yet?"

Severus shook his head mutely.

"Well, I am," Harry said. "And there's barely anything edible at home. Let's go shopping."

The trip to Diagon Alley turned out completely uneventful. There were still some curious glances directed at both of them, and not particularly hushed whispers behind their backs, but for the most part the novelty of seeing Severus Snape out and about appeared to have worn off. They bought some groceries, some fruit, and Harry Apparated them back home. As soon as they unloaded the groceries, Harry started cooking – and this time it was a real meal, rather than something concocted from cans and packages.

When the smell of cooked fish with mixed vegetables filled the kitchen, Severus could no longer deny being hungry. They ate together, and Harry smiled complacently while Severus polished the food off his plate ravenously.

"You liked this, I take it?" Harry asked, clearing away the dishes.

"Yes. Very much."

Harry seemed to be bursting with pride. "Well, looks like I'm not completely useless then."

"No," Severus said mildly, his lips quirking into a tiny smirk. "Not completely."

Harry laughed out loud and leaned back in his chair.

"It's good to be home," Harry said.

For a second, it seemed to Severus that Harry was trying to tell him a bit more than that, but nothing else was said, and Severus decided that he must have been mistaken. But even the faint, incomprehensible intimations of things unsaid did nothing to disrupt the absolute calm of the moment, and Severus allowed himself to simply enjoy it.

They rested for a while, and went out into the garden, where they finished planting the roses, tying the bushes to the wooden stakes sticking out of the ground. They completed the task by watering the freshly planted bushes generously, and went back into the house.

When evening came, Harry cooked dinner, once again impressing Severus by his culinary skills, and this time, Severus acknowledged Harry's efforts without prompting, causing him to grin ear to ear. They spent the rest of the night reading in a comfortable silence, with Tripod curled in Severus' lap.

When Severus headed upstairs for the night, Harry gave him a sleepy smile, which Severus found himself returning instantly, barely being able to credit how much peace and comfort Harry's mere presence brought with it.

**o-o-o-o-o**

The few days that followed were nothing short of absolutely blissful, as far as Harry was concerned. He spent the mornings and afternoons with Lily, Molly and Arthur at the Burrow. Ginny was away until the end of the week for Quidditch practice with her team. Harry couldn't wait to see her again, and ask her to come home.

Ginny came back on Saturday evening, firecalled him, and told him that they were throwing him a small birthday party at the Burrow on Sunday.

Harry thanked her, and invited Severus to come along. Severus looked slightly hesitant while declining the invitation, but Harry assured him that it was fine.

"I'm going to ask Luna to come and stick around while I'm gone," Harry said.

"That's not necessary," Severus said. "Your friend shouldn't have to miss your birthday party."

"She won't mind," Harry said confidently, wishing he had the time to explain Luna to Severus.

"You really needn't worry about me," Severus continued to protest. "The wards on your home were reconfigured to provide maximum security, and I no longer need to be... watched."

"Well... that's true, but it'd still make me feel better, if she came over," Harry said hesitantly, wondering if this was going to become a point of contention. But Severus chose not to press the issue.

"All right," he said gruffly, appearing uninterested in arguing. "Happy birthday, Potter."

Harry couldn't conceal a ridiculous smile that appeared on his face of its own accord. Severus' slightly irritated voice, calling him _Potter _rather than _Harry_, was all the reassurance he needed of the fact that life was slowly returning to some-kind-of normal.

When Luna arrived, Harry departed. Instead of taking the Floo to go to the Burrow, he walked out of the house and took a look at the garden, where some of the rosebuds on the bushes he and Severus had planted a few days earlier had already begun to open. Harry smiled, lifting his face to catch the last glow of the sunset, reflecting off the leaves of the rose bushes.

The deep breath of fresh air he took in felt almost intoxicating, and Harry's smile grew brighter. He could not remember the last time he had felt so untroubled, and so at peace about everything. Harry knew they still had many challenges ahead of them, but none seem insurmountable, with friends and family around, ready to lend a hand.

_Family_. He felt a little self-conscious about applying that word to Severus, but in Harry's mind, it fitted. Privately, Harry wondered at times if now that Severus had regained his bearings, the man saw him as anything more than a semi-competent caregiver. But when Harry glanced at the two rows of neatly planted rose bushes along the garden path, somehow, his uncertainties about the newly formed friendship were laid to rest one more time.

**To Be Continued...**


	32. Safe Places

**Safe Places **

When Luna arrived, Severus made an attempt to evade her and escape to his study, but quickly found out how impossible that was. She convinced him to stay in the living room, and pulled out a game from Harry's bookshelf. Recognizing the Exploding Snap cards, Severus shook his head, but having no other ideas for spending the evening, decided to yield to her plans.

She shuffled the cards, and began to deal them.

"I'm really glad Harry was fired," Luna said matter of factly. "I think he's going to be much happier now."

"Hmm," Severus muttered. He knew for a fact that Harry hadn't shared the details of his departure from the job at the Auror Office with her, but he wasn't especially surprised that Luna had worked the details out on her own. "Yes, I suppose so."

"It's wonderful to be home with someone who cares about you," Luna whispered, as if talking to herself. "It feels so safe." There was a small note of longing in her voice. "Doesn't it?" she asked, and looked up at him, her grey, misty eyes studying him intently.

Severus scowled, unsure if it were an abstract question, or an intensely personal one. But she gave him a tiny, hesitantly hopeful smile, and he nodded curtly in response.

"You know," she said, standing up and abandoning the cards, "there's something I'd like you to try. You've got your wand on you, haven't you?"

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Harry emerged from the Floo at the Burrow, Lily was the first to rush to him, and jump into his arms. Harry lifted her up, and she squealed in unrestrained delight, kicking her feet until Harry allowed her to sit on his shoulders.

He surveyed the small crowd of friends and family, gathered in the living room of the Burrow. Molly and Arthur were there, along with Ron, Hermione, George, Ginny, and Marietta. Ginny had followed Harry's wishes in keeping the gathering as small as possible.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Hermione was the first to say. "Do you feel older and wiser yet?"

"One hundred per cent," Harry said solemnly. "I feel wisdom just oozing out of me. It's absolutely incredible."

Ron snickered quietly and shook Harry's hand.

"How's the Auror's Office doing?" Harry asked.

"Much better, now that you're gone," Ron quipped, earning himself a small smack on the back of his head from Hermione. "Ow, what was that for?"

"You're supposed to feign sympathy, I think," Marietta said dryly. "Potter looks absolutely devastated by his loss, can't you tell?"

Harry laughed out loud.

"Daddy, I've got something for you!" Lily declared, squirming on Harry's shoulders. Harry chuckled quietly and let her off, setting her firmly on the floor.

Lily took a hold of his sleeve and dragged him upstairs to her bedroom. Once there, she produced a large drawing and presented Harry with it. Harry stared at it for a few seconds. As far as he could tell, it was a representation of a person, although Harry wasn't entirely certain. However, he suspected that asking _what is it?_ wouldn't be the best strategic move at this point.

"It's wonderful," Harry said. "Thank you, Lily."

"Does it look like him?" Lily demanded, staring at Harry hopefully.

"Uh," Harry mumbled, desperately wondering who that 'him' might be. Eventually, he opted for a safe response. "I think so."

"That's what Sev'rus Snape will look like, when his hair gets long again," Lily advised him, pointing at the straight black lines that presumably indicated the man's hair.

"Right," Harry agreed quickly, and smiled. "Why did you draw him?"

"He's your best friend, isn't he?" Lily asked cautiously.

"Hmm," Harry was taken aback slightly by the question. "Yes, I suppose he is."

Lily smiled hesitantly, and looked up at Harry with obvious worry. "What about me?" she asked in a very small voice. "Am I still your best friend?"

Harry felt his stomach drop. He should have known that Lily would be troubled about this change in living arrangements – what child wouldn't be?

Quickly, he reached for his daughter, and scooped her up in his arms.

"Absolutely," he told her, holding her tightly. "You and mum will always be my best friends. Nothing can change that."

If anything, the past three months proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt, Harry thought, where, in spite of arguments and disagreements, everyone banded together around him.

"Best friends are like family," Harry said, running his hand through Lily's hair. "There's always room for one more."

"All right," Lily said, looking incredibly relieved. "Happy birthday, daddy."

"Thank you, sweetie. Now, let's go downstairs and join the party, hm?"

Harry and Lily came downstairs together, with Lily still holding on to his hand.

Marietta presented Harry with a bottle of excellent Firewhisky.

"You really didn't have to get me anything," he muttered awkwardly, giving her a small hug.

"Who says it's for you?" Marietta quipped. "I'll probably get into it myself next time I'm over."

"Well, Harry, since you always say you don't want anything for your birthday, we decided to get you something small this time," Ginny interrupted, presenting Harry with a small scroll of parchment. "This is from all of us."

"Yes, but mostly from Ginny," Hermione said.

Curious more than anything, Harry accepted the parchment scroll. When he unfurled it, his eyes opened wide in shock.

"The Black Estate?" Harry asked, with a small tremor in his voice. "What...how?"

"Ginny bought it out," Hermione explained, watching Harry with delight. "We just helped a bit. Try not to sell it too many times, all right?"

"You really shouldn't have," Harry said uncomfortably.

"You shouldn't have sold it in the first place," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear, embracing him. "Though it was my fault more than yours. Irritated with you or not, I should have offered to help right away... knowing that you'd never think to ask."

"Thank you," Harry whispered back, tucking the scroll away into the inner pocket of his robe.

"No whispering!" Lily demanded, tugging on Ginny's and Harry's sleeves at the same time. "Let's party."

**o-o-o-o-o**

"What's the first spell you ever tried?" Luna asked.

"_Lumos_," Severus said reluctantly, clutching his wand nervously. "I, uh, _borrowed_ my mother's wand when I was six..."

"Borrowed," Luna repeated with a wry smile.

"Well, she got it back eventually," Severus grumbled. "What about you?"

"When I was eight, I tried _Accio_," Luna mused. "I wanted to summon a book from the top shelf."

"Oh." Severus smiled slightly at the image of an eight-year old trying to use a fourth year charm. "How did that work out?"

"The bookcase toppled over, and every single book flew in a different direction. It was spectacular," Luna said, grinning mischievously.

Severus nodded slightly. Hearing the laughter in her voice, and seeing the careless mess of the Exploding Snap cards on the kitchen table, brought a strange, barely comprehensible longing. Maybe his childhood hadn't exactly been a happy one – but suddenly he found himself remembering a simpler time – a time when magic was for knocking branches off trees, and conjuring light in a dark room...

"It's just like that now," Luna murmured in a barely audible voice. "We're home."

**o-o-o-o-o**

The party went on for some hours. Marietta was the first to depart, and go to her night shift at St. Mungo's. Lily was sent to bed next, making a great fuss, and protesting, but calming when Harry told her how much he loved her picture. George, Ron and Hermione left next, and finally, after hugging Harry and wishing him a happy birthday yet again, Molly and Arthur retreated for the night as well.

Ginny alone remained in the living room, curled up on the couch, holding Lily's drawing in her hands.

"It's Snape," Harry felt the need to elaborate. "With long, thoroughly brushed hair."

Ginny smiled a little. "She's a kind girl. Much kinder than I was her age."

"You've turned out all right," Harry said, smiling back. "Apart from your temper and stubbornness and..."

This time, Ginny didn't just smile, she laughed out loud. "Really, Harry, you're the one to talk."

Harry nodded. "I know. I really have been a prat lately. But that'll change, I think, now that I'm not working for Diggory anymore."

"I think so too," Ginny said, inclining her head slightly. "I think it'll be good for you."

"I think it will be good for all of us," Harry said quietly, moving closer to her and gathering her up in a tight embrace. She issued a small sigh, but made no effort to withdraw from his touch. Harry leaned forward to kiss her cheek, but she bowed her head and pulled away slightly, and his lips barely brushed against her skin.

"I've missed you," Harry whispered in her ear, holding her close.

"I've missed you too," she said guardedly. "But please, don't..."

"Don't what?" Harry asked uncomprehendingly.

"Don't do this," she said pointedly, taking his hands in hers, and pulling them off her waist. "It's hard, Harry. I've only just begun to get used to sleeping alone again."

"Well, maybe it's not a good idea to get used to something like that," Harry said. "I want you to come home."

"I don't want to talk about it now," Ginny protested. She pulled her feet up, and curled into herself, with her chin resting on her knees.

"Why not now?" Harry pressed, turning to face her. "Now is as good a time as any. Look – I know that I've been distant, and moody, and what-not – but it'll all change now. I want you back."

"I said, I don't want to discuss it now," Ginny repeated stubbornly. "Come on, Harry..."

"Well, you don't need to move back tonight," Harry conceded, "but let's at least make a plan. It's driving me crazy to come home, and not see you and Lily there. How about we aim for the first week of September?"

Ginny bit her lip, and then took a deep breath. "I want a divorce, Harry."

"What?" In spite of the fact that they'd spent the last three months apart, he was still shocked to hear it.

"You heard me. I want a divorce," Ginny said with obviously forced calm.

"You're breaking up with me on my birthday?" Harry asked, only belatedly realizing how pitiful and self-centered that statement came out.

"I wasn't planning on doing it today," Ginny said softly. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

Harry sighed deeply. So she did.

"I don't understand," Harry protested. "What's wrong? We're getting along better..."

"We are," Ginny conceded quietly. "But it's not enough. I want something more."

Harry threw his head up, suppressing an irritated remark. "Something more?" he asked, trying to keep his tone as understanding and non-confrontational as possible. "Like what?"

"Passion," Ginny said softly. "Being in love. Being irresistible to someone. Being excited about living together, rather than tolerating a mediocre marriage because we care for each other and are too scared to be on our own."

"I'm not scared!" Harry spat indignantly, instantly irritated by the suggestion. "I know a great deal more about being on my own than you ever could."

For a second he expected her to pick a fight over his outburst, but she just smiled with unusual sadness and nodded.

"Yes, I suppose you do," she whispered, leaning towards him. She stroked his face absently, and pressed a small kiss to his brow.

Harry wrapped his arms around her and drew a deep breath, before burying his face in her hair one more time. "I love you," he whispered, surprised by how much it hurt to say those words this time.

"I know," she agreed, softly shifting in his arms and resting her head on his chest. "I still love you, Harry, I really do. I just don't think it's going to work to be together."

For a long time, he simply held her, listening to nothing but the quiet, measured breathing in the room, hers and his own. Every time he inhaled, he could smell her scent, familiar, dear and filled with memories of affection and comfort. _It was over_, he thought,_ it was over,_ he repeated to himself each time he exhaled.

Letting her go like this somehow was harder than a bitter, angry fight would have been, because the ties of affection were still there, strong and permanent... and woefully insufficient.

She pulled away from him at long last, and gave him another brave smile that he returned unenthusiastically.

"All right. Now what?" he asked, feeling a lump in his throat as he spoke.

"Friends?" she offered hesitantly.

"Of course," Harry agreed miserably. "What about Lily?"

"She should stay with me for now," Ginny said firmly. "But you can come and visit any time you like."

"I want her to stay with me, too, at least some of the time," Harry protested at once, bracing himself for an argument.

"Out of the question," she said flatly. "With the Death Eater threat to Snape? I don't want Lily to be there, should they attack your house."

Harry muttered a quiet obscenity under his breath, wanting nothing more than to just argue, but knowing that Ginny had a valid point... once again.

"When everything settles down, we'll figure it out," Ginny said. "I know that Lily needs you. I'll never come between you."

"All right," Harry said.

She reached to hug him again, and ran her fingers through his hair. "Don't sulk, Harry. It'll be all right," she said hesitantly, as if attempting to convince herself, as much as him. "Come see Lily tomorrow."

"I'll do that," Harry said, rising to his feet. "Well, good night."

He departed from the Burrow, holding Lily's drawing in his hands.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Rather than taking the Floo home, Harry Apparated to the village end of the lane and walked to the house, making a conscious attempt not to wallow in abject misery... much. The finality of the breakup with Ginny had begun to settle in, but he still had difficulty understanding it. He really did think that they were making progress, only to find out that he'd managed to mistake simple gestures of friendship for something more. When he pushed the gate open, and saw the rose bushes, neatly planted alongside the path leading to his house, a familiar wave of rage welled up. For a brief moment, he was sorely tempted to kick one of the bushes, but remembered Severus crouched on the ground next to him, planting them, and held back.

He shook his head, and took a deep breath to calm himself, before opening the door, and walking in.

Luna walked out to greet him, with her finger pressed to her lips.

"Shh. He fell asleep on the couch," she said. "Just let him sleep."

"All right," Harry said, also quietly. "Thank you, Luna."

"You're welcome. How was your birthday party?" she asked, noticing the unhappy grimace on his face.

"Ginny broke up with me," Harry mumbled miserably.

"Again?" Luna exclaimed in a subdued whisper.

"Well, I guess not," Harry admitted reluctantly. "See, I'd assumed that we were still together, and... she clarified things for me."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry. That sounds really embarrassing," Luna empathized, so sincerely that Harry instantly wanted to shake her. "On the other hand," Luna mused, "aren't you glad you kept the cat?"

Harry chuckled resignedly, and nodded. "The cat is great."

Luna took his arm and tugged on it gently. "I have something to show you," she said, still speaking very quietly. "Come on."

He followed her into the living room, where Tripod was napping in front of the hearth, and Severus was sleeping on the couch, lying on his side, with his right arm tucked under his head. Harry squinted slightly, looking at the familiar, still all-too thin frame of the man occupying his couch, and blinked in disbelief. Severus' hair was no longer short. It was a long, dark curtain, extending to well below his shoulders, and half-covering his face.

Harry turned to Luna in confusion. It took a long time for the penny to drop, but finally, Harry voiced a hesitant guess. "He's doing magic again?"

Luna nodded silently.

"And the first thing he did was restore his hair to the normal length?" Harry asked, surprised, for the most part because he had never thought that Severus actually cared about a single aspect of his appearance.

"No, first he spent a couple of hours practising other spells," Luna said. "But when I went to cook dinner, he did this. Maybe he wanted to feel a bit like his old self again," Luna added softly. "Please don't make fun of him, Harry."

"I wouldn't do that," Harry whispered, slightly horrified by the suggestion that he could be capable of it. "Want to see what my daughter gave me for my birthday?"

"Of course," Luna said, and Harry showed the picture to her.

"It's lovely," Luna said. "What is it?"

"According to Lily, it's Severus with long hair," Harry said, smiling. "Imagine that, hm?"

Luna nodded. "She might have the gift of Divination. Either that, or it's a really weird coincidence."

They stood together in the shadows of the living room for a while, looking at the sleeping Severus together. "The way his hair falls on his face," Harry mused. "Looks like he's hiding."

"Everyone hides, Harry," Luna said. "Some of us have fewer hiding places than the rest. Let him have his."

**To Be Continued...**


	33. Night Terrors

**Night Terrors**

_The cell was dark. His hands were chained behind his back, making leaning against the stone wall awkward to the point of being painful. He shifted slightly, and when he heard someone's footsteps, brought his knees to his chest, curling into himself. He didn't bother opening his eyes. _

_People were standing over him. Someone was saying something. The words were not registering with him. _

_A hand grabbed his hair, and yanked, pulling him up into a standing position. He stood, with his head bowed, swaying on his feet. _

_Somehow, a small part of him was refusing to believe this was real. He was certain that there was more to life. Didn't he just see Harry? Didn't he just speak to Lovegood? Wasn't there some other Ravenclaw, Edgecombe, and Draco – and that little girl, a child with dark hair, and enormous green eyes, that looked just like -_

"_What? Were you dreaming of escaping again?" Macnair taunted him lazily. "Did you dream of Harry Potter, rushing to your rescue?" _

_He shook his head, trying to gain his bearings. No, that hadn't been a delusion. That had been real, it must have been - _

_When Macnair backhanded him, Severus stumbled backwards, slamming against the wall. _

"_It'd serve you well to stop dreaming," the man said, his enormous hand reaching to wipe the blood trickling from Severus' lips. "There's no way out. Nobody remembers you except us. You belong here. With us. You belong to us. All of us." _

_He swallowed hard, trying to remember something else – something other than this cell – and couldn't. For a fleeting moment, it seemed that there might be something other than this – but those memories faded, dissolved without a trace. _

"_Where do you belong?" Macnair demanded, his hand pressing against Severus' neck._

"_Here," Severus said wearily. "I – belong here." _

_For a brief second, he dared to believe that he'd appeased his tormentors, but his response only elicited a round of angry laughter. Then someone's hand was in his hair again, someone was pushing him down, forcing him into a kneeling position again, and someone else's hand was on his face, prying his mouth wide open... _

_He screamed at the top of his lungs, struggling, and falling, falling -_

until he sat up abruptly, gasping for air. It took him a long minute to realize that he was sitting in a bed, rather than on a stone floor, that he was wearing a familiar, long nightshirt... his heartbeat began to slow down, if only slightly, until something long brushed against his face. His hand trembled as he lifted it to touch his head. His hair was long again – why? Hadn't it been cut short upon his rescue? But there it was, unmistakably long – did that mean that...

He screamed again, bolted to his feet, stumbled aimlessly across the room, and a moment later fell into something – or someone.

"Shh," Harry said, holding him up, his arms wrapped around him. "It's all right. We're home."

"Home," Severus repeated in mindless, disbelieving wonder. "Home?"

Harry's arms tightened around him, and for a few long minutes they stood together, locked in embrace, with Severus' head bowed, his cheek pressing against Harry's flushed neck, and Harry's left hand stroking Severus on the back, back and forth. When his panic finally receded, Severus allowed himself a deep sigh of relief, that he breathed out into Harry's shoulder... Harry's warm, bare shoulder.

Severus shifted slightly, and slowly withdrew from Harry's grip, noticing that Harry had rushed to his aid wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, and holding nothing but a wand in his hand. Severus winced slightly, realizing belatedly how inappropriately intimate the friendly embrace had turned out. Harry intercepted his gaze, smiled sheepishly and flicked his wand.

"_Accio_ shirt and glasses," Harry muttered, and the two items arrived, resting in his hand. He put his glasses on, and threw the shirt on. "Sorry," Harry said. "I – never mind. I'm going to have some tea. Would you like some?"

Severus nodded mutely and followed Harry downstairs.

**o-o-o-o-o**

When they reached the kitchen, Harry turned the kettle on, boiled the water, and made tea for both of them. By the time he handed the cup of tea to Severus, the man had regained control of himself and was staring at Harry with a faint, barely noticeable smirk.

"What?" Harry mumbled, taking a sip of his tea.

"That was a very dramatic entrance, Mr. Potter," Severus said dryly. "You seem to specialize in those."

Harry sighed. "I guess I overreacted. Frankly... my first thought was that somehow the Death Eaters had bypassed the house wards, and..."

"You rushed to my rescue, without even taking the time to adorn yourself in scarlet and gold." To Harry's immense relief, Severus' voice was now practically dripping with sarcasm. "How wonderfully heroic."

Harry snickered quietly. "Easy now," he said with a wry smile. "Save some insults for breakfast."

To Harry's surprise, all hint at humour left Severus' face, and instead, it acquired a stern, slightly haunted expression.

"I... apologize, Potter," Severus said with obvious reluctance. "I didn't mean to belittle your attempt to... render aid. And I certainly didn't intend to wake you up in the middle of the night."

Harry winced at the clear note of self-recrimination in Severus' voice. "It's all right," he said softly. "And please, don't apologize. I can't count the number of times we woke you up in the middle of the night back at Hogwarts."

"That's different," Severus said stubbornly, clearly intending to take as much blame as humanly possible in this instance.

"Yes, it is," Harry said quickly, not wanting to give Severus a chance to blame himself further, or start apologizing again. "I don't have to go to work tomorrow, and teach a complex and dangerous subject to a school-full of stubborn, reckless students; nor do I have to spend the afternoon and evening expecting to be summoned by the Dark Lord."

Severus smiled ruefully and uncertainly. "I'm surprised to hear you say that. I never thought you'd... understand."

Harry noticed that the man's hands shook slightly when he cradled his mug of tea, lifting it to his lips.

"I've had seven years to rethink some things," Harry said softly.

"Hmm."

For a few minutes they simply sat together in a comfortable silence, until Harry finally dared to breach it.

"What was the dream like?" Harry asked quietly.

Severus shrugged, apparently in an attempt to feign indifference. "It's not important."

Harry nodded slightly, debating the wisdom of arguing this particular point.

"Sometimes, it can be helpful to talk about this sort of thing," Harry said finally, making his words come out as neutral as he could.

For a second or two, Severus stared at him with a positively murderous expression on his face, and Harry braced himself for verbal slaughter. However, somehow, Severus managed to hold himself back from saying whatever unkind things were running through his mind.

"Thank you, Potter," Severus said simply, "but that's not necessary. I assure you, this won't happen again."

Harry smiled a little. "Well, like I said, you don't need to worry about waking me up in the middle of the night. I don't mind... that's what friends are for, right?"

Severus looked clearly uncomfortable. "Even friendships have their limits," he said stiffly, obviously troubled and unsettled.

"Sure," Harry said quietly, "but this isn't one of them. Shall I tell you how many times I firecalled Ron in the middle of the night and woke him up, just to talk, because I had a nightmare and couldn't shake it off?"

Severus snorted derisively and looked away.

"I'm an Occlumens," he repeated stubbornly. "I'm in control of my own mind. I know how to reorganize my thoughts, and manage my own dreams. I won't wake you again."

Having several years of advanced Occlumency training under his belt, Harry knew all too well that Severus was either dissembling, or putting entirely too much pressure on himself – but didn't think that arguing about it right this moment was a good idea.

"All right," Harry said simply. "Well, if you change your mind, my door is always open to you. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need me. Please?"

This time, Severus didn't dignify his reassurances with an answer. He finished his tea in silence, avoiding looking at Harry altogether.

"Thank you for the tea," he said stiffly, standing up and placing the empty mug in the sink.

"Sure," Harry said softly.

Severus turned around and headed towards the kitchen door. Harry watched him silently, not sure if he should say anything else to get through to the intolerably obstinate man who was apparently intending to wade through his personal hell on his own.

As if sensing Harry staring at him, Severus turned around abruptly and met his gaze.

"Had nightmares after the war, did you?" Severus asked in an odd tone of voice, that carried no sympathy, but no accusation either. If anything, Severus seemed to be comparing himself to Harry, as if one's mental health was some sort of contest to be won.

Harry nodded mutely.

"What about?" Severus demanded.

Harry swallowed hard, feeling very much put on the spot and cornered, but seeing no graceful way out of answering the question.

"I dreamed about you," Harry said quietly. "Dying in the Shrieking Shack... and that I didn't do anything."

He must have said entirely too much, because Severus turned away from him and left the kitchen without looking back.

**To Be Continued...**


	34. Allies

**Allies**

The week that followed seemed calm and uneventful – on the surface. Severus didn't have nightmares, as far as Harry could tell. The man kept to his usual routine with fierce determination, as if it was his only grip on sanity. He exercised, he read, he worked in Hannah's rooftop garden, and he practised spells for hours. By the middle of the week, Severus was already well into nonverbal spells. That in itself was a cause for celebration... except, Severus didn't seem to be inclined to celebrate anything.

Severus became more antisocial than ever, closing himself off in his study for as long as he could get away with it. His former students who came to visit him in the mornings didn't know what to make of it, and for the most part, just let him be. Harry himself pushed his luck a bit further, and managed to draw Severus out of his self-imposed isolation most days. On those days, they had dinner together in strained silence and spent the evening reading together.

Or rather, Harry alternated between reading, and watching his friend with growing concern. Severus didn't seem to be reading much. He spent long stretches of time simply staring ahead, with his gaze unfocused and vacant, appearing to be completely unaware of Harry studying him.

When Harry spoke to him, and asked him how he was doing, it took Severus a few minutes to reply, but when he did, he responded with a terse _fine_, that was clearly intended to discourage further inquiry. Harry cautiously suggested calling Marietta to drop by and examine him, but Severus flat out refused, and Harry decided not to press the issue, even though something was clearly wrong. For the moment, Harry resolved to watch Severus as much as he could, and be ready to respond to crisis, hoping that it'd be enough.

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Tuesday arrived, Severus made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, received his assignment from Hannah, and went upstairs to the garden that had, in many ways, become his home away from home. This was the place where he could be alone, away from the concerned gazes of well-meaning people, away from the more and more frequent brooding about how radically his personal freedom had been curtailed, away from the constant reminder that he was living in someone else's home... and more to the point, the reminder that he didn't even mind that much, even though a part of him suspected that he should.

But Hannah's garden, with its simple silence, held none of that. Here, was just work, and the satisfaction of the job well done. He intended to hold on to it for as long as he could, although the slight trembling in his arms suggested that he might not be able to do so for much longer.

The last week turned out to be exhausting beyond all measure. He spent the days hiding from his visitors, and the evenings doing his best to maintain a civilized interaction with Harry. And it wasn't that Harry was doing anything wrong. Harry was still the same. Severus was the one who had changed. There was too much irrational anger, too much spite, and too much desire to lash out at someone – anyone, at the slightest provocation. For the most part, Severus managed to avoid doing that, not wanting to disrupt the delicate and still (in his mind) very tentative link of something-almost-like-friendship that had evolved between him and Harry.

The times just before going to bed were usually the worst. Severus spent the late evenings sitting in the living room, making diligent attempts to focus on something, but never quite succeeding. When daylight waned, the twilight, sad and cloudy, brought with it memories of the not-so recent past, and sometimes, all Severus could do was sit numbly and stare at nothing in particular, while the derisive, taunting voices of his captors continued to echo in his ears. At times he could swear that he was seeing someone else out of the corner of his eye, and it took all of his willpower to persuade himself that _they_ weren't real, and that Harry, the three-legged cat, and the book in his lap were the only reality worth clinging to.

The worst part about evenings was the anticipation of having to go to bed, and fall asleep. He found himself procrastinating, and trying to delay the inevitable. When finally he allowed himself to drift, the nightmares returned, vivid and horrifying in their exquisite cruelty. He dreamt of waking up for the first time upon being captured, securely restrained, with the familiar faces of defeated, enraged Voldemort supporters sneering at him, someone holding up the Pensive with his memories for everyone to see.

He found himself too numb to even issue a whimper of protest, and it was only when the first hand grabbed him that he screamed, waking up and sitting up in his bed, desperately trying to remember where he was, and what was real.

Most nights, he didn't manage to get more than a couple of hours of sleep, and every night, he woke himself up with his own screaming. The only blessing in the matter, as far as Severus was concerned, was the strong silencing charm he'd put on his bedroom the night after his first nightmare. To his immense relief, Harry hadn't noticed... yet.

Still, in spite of his sleep deprivation, Severus had no intention of changing his routine, or sleeping in during the day. Somehow, it seemed like admitting defeat, admitting that _they_ – his captors – had been strong enough to wreck him to the point where he couldn't live a normal life, a life that included sleeping at night, and engaging in ordinary human activities daytime.

When the warmth of the July sun touched his face, Severus snapped out of his morbid thoughts.

_Work_, he thought. He made an attempt to stand up, but suddenly and unexpectedly, his knees buckled underneath him, and he found himself sliding to the floor next to one of the wooden raised flower beds. His last conscious thought was that he had to get up and get to work, but before he could summon the remnants of his strength, the exhaustion of the sleepless nights caught up with him, and oblivion claimed him.

**o-o-o-o-o**

He was woken by someone's hand shaking his shoulder. He flinched at the unwelcome contact and struck out instinctively, pushing the hand away.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Hannah Longbottom, crouched on the floor next to him, looking at him with concern.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, scrambling to sit up, and feeling instantly dizzy from the change in position. "How long was I..."

"About half an hour, I think," she said apologetically, as if somehow it was her fault that he had passed out on the floor of her garden like Sybill Trelawney after a second bottle of sherry. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said gruffly. "Just..."

She studied his face for a long minute, and hazarded a cautious guess. "Haven't been getting enough sleep?"

"Perhaps not," he conceded reluctantly, opting for a half-truth. "I've been going to bed later than usual. My apologies."

"None are needed. Why don't you go home and get some rest? We can reschedule work for tomorrow."

She stood up and offered her hand to him, which he ignored pointedly. He took a few moments to collect himself before following her downstairs and taking the Floo home.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Harry couldn't help but notice that Severus looked more tired and worn out than usual, when he departed to work at Hannah's on Tuesday morning. As usual Harry asked him how he was doing, received the customary unfriendly _fine_ in response, and a minute later, Severus was gone.

Severus was clearly far from fine, Harry thought ruefully. He was looking more and more exhausted every day, and his patience with Harry seemed to be waning. In fact, Severus began to resemble his old, ill-tempered, stressed self during the war – and while Harry was glad that Severus was no longer trying to pacify him every waking moment, it was also obvious that something was wearing him out.

_Nightmares?_ That was the only thing Harry could think of, time and again... but somehow, Severus managed to avoid those, at least if the dead silence during the nights was anything to go by. And the silence coming from Severus' room had been absolutely deafening.

Harry sighed, rising to his feet, as it belatedly occurred to him that perhaps silence didn't mean what Harry had assumed it to mean. He walked upstairs, cast a _Diclausus_ charm on Severus' room, and took half a minute to absorb the results of the spell. The outcome, even though not exactly surprising, still shook him up. There was a powerful silencing charm on Severus' door. The nightmares hadn't ceased – Severus had simply taken steps to ensure that Harry didn't wake during the night.

Harry was still standing numbly in front of the door to Severus' bedroom, when the sound of the Floo bursting into flames indicated Severus' arrival.

"Potter?" Severus called out from downstairs.

"I'm here," Harry replied and began to walk down the stairs.

Severus was standing at the bottom of the staircase, staring up at him.

"You're home early," Harry said, while Severus continued to stare at him, his hands folded on his chest, and his face holding a stormy expression. "Everything all right?" Harry checked.

"Yes," Severus said sharply. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're home early."

"We rescheduled for tomorrow," Severus said noncommittally.

"That's it? You're feeling all right?"

"Have you been snooping, Potter?" Severus demanded tersely. "Casting spells on my bedroom while I'm not home?" Harry's face must have been an open book at this point, because Severus issued a brief, derisive snort, and muttered bitterly, "Of course. Why _should_ I have any hope for privacy in your house?"

Harry bit his lip, resisting the urge to apologize.

"Is this your idea of privacy?" Harry asked as neutrally as he could, coming face to face with Severus. "Screaming behind the silencing charm, without anyone to..."

"To _what_, Potter?" Snape retorted coldly. "To coddle me like an invalid, or a scared child? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Would it soothe your belated and misguided feelings of remorse?"

Harry sighed tiredly. "Don't be like that," he said in a quiet voice. "No, I don't like that you're having trouble sleeping. But I don't want you to... be alone. Nobody should be alone like that."

"I've always been alone, and it suited me just fine," Severus said pointedly. "What I need you to do is stay out of my way, even if you think you know best." He paused a bit, and added coldly, "I thought you'd have learned by now that you can't save everyone."

Harry winced in spite of himself, as Severus' angry statement struck at something deep within that had ached and burned ever since the day the man was rescued. The words that followed escaped Harry's lips of their own accord.

"I don't care about saving everyone," Harry said. "Just you."

Severus rewarded his unthinking words with a ferocious scowl.

"Instead of indulging your messianic complex, and trying to save me from my own life, do try to remember that you aren't capable of saving _anyone, _including yourself_._" Severus' glare intensified, burning into Harry. "And if you have any doubt of that, do try and remember that your mother is dead because of you."

**o-o-o-o-o**

No sooner had the thoughtless, cruel words escaped his mouth than Severus knew that it was just the kind of unforgivable statement that had the power to ruin a friendship permanently and irrevocably.

Harry flinched as if he'd been slapped, and his hands clenched into fists instantly. For a second or two, Severus truly thought it'd come to blows, and he stood still, cursing himself under his breath, and half-hoping that Harry would simply strike him to vent his anger, and be done with it.

But Harry didn't strike out, or say anything in response. He simply gave Severus a tight nod, and walked away quickly. The door of the house slammed hard when he departed, and Severus walked to the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs, hugging his body with his arms.

The wave of shame and revulsion rolled in, as the full extent of the cruelty of his statement finally caught up with him. He'd lashed out at someone who'd been helping him above and beyond what Severus had any right or reason to hope for... and Severus had repaid the offer of friendship by uttering quite possibly the nastiest thing to ever emerge from his mouth. That the fledgling friendship had been lost was painfully obvious, but the anticipation of loneliness and isolation didn't unsettle him nearly as much as the knowledge of how much he'd hurt Harry with his statement.

Not to mention that if anyone was to blame for Lily's death, it was him; but Harry never brought it up – even though he could have done so easily, without meeting any resistance or arguments.

He wasn't sure how long he'd spent sitting frozen in his chair, staring at the floor, waiting for Harry to return. When the door opened again, Severus felt his stomach drop, and waited silently while Harry walked into the kitchen and gave him a small, awkward nod.

"You hungry?" Harry asked in a barely audible voice.

"No."

"Would you like some tea?"

"No."

Harry sighed and filled the kettle with water anyway, plugging it into the wall and switching it on.

"I suppose we should talk," Harry said.

"I know," Severus said, without lifting his head or looking up. More than anything, he wanted to get up and leave, but running away from the consequences of his own stupidity was never his style.

He could sense Harry standing next to him, maddeningly and achingly close. For a moment or two, it seemed like Harry was going to reach out and touch his shoulder, but Harry didn't.

"It doesn't have to be me," Harry said quietly.

"I beg your pardon?" Severus asked numbly.

"It doesn't have to be me helping you through this," Harry clarified. "I admit, I you were right, I _want_ to be the one to do it, but... if you can't think of me as a friend, I'll understand... just let _someone_ help you through this, Marietta, Luna, Pansy, Hermione, Narcissa – I'll find a way for someone to stay with us and be with you, just..." Harry's voice shook slightly as he continued. "Just don't hide behind a silencing charm alone. It's not human. Please? Just let someone – _anyone_ be there for you."

Harry continued to talk, saying something else, something more, but Severus could no longer hear anything, because there was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest with the realization that Harry wasn't raging, or shaming him, or demanding apologies and reparations. He was simply pleading with him – for Severus' own sanity and health – like they were the only thing that mattered to him at this point.

There had been many people to hold influence over Severus over the years – from Lily Evans, to Horace Slughorn, to Tom Riddle, to Albus Dumbledore – but no matter what, nobody had ever had the power to twist his heart this way, by offering something so precious so freely and unconditionally.

He rose to his feet, and he might have slid down to the floor to his knees, just like he had done before Dumbledore over two decades ago – but unlike Albus, Harry didn't let that happen. Harry caught him into a tight embrace and held him up, keeping him on his feet.

"I'm sorry," Severus muttered awkwardly. "Harry – I'm so sorry for everything, for what I said..."

"Shh. It's ok. Doesn't matter what you said." Harry's arms tightened around him even more. "You're tired, and angry, and hurt – and I'm an idiot. Not a good combination. So what do you say? Should I call Luna, or Pansy, or..."

"No," Severus said quietly, even as his body began to relax in Harry's arms, finding a home in that half-panicked, desperate embrace. "Just you. Nobody else."

"Will you take down the silencing charm?" Harry asked cautiously.

"If you like," Severus agreed mildly, feeling that at this moment he'd give Harry anything, simply for the asking.

On top of the work-top, the kettle whistled quietly, and Harry finally released Severus from his grip. Severus sat down again, feeling more than a little dizzy from the way Harry had the power to turn his world upside down without even trying.

"You realize, you won't get much sleep," Severus felt the need to point out.

Harry shrugged, unconcerned, and turned the kettle off. "I'll get exactly as much sleep as you do." The green eyes twinkled remorselessly. "We're doing this together, all right?"

A few moments later, an unasked-for mug of hot tea made his its way towards Severus, and he accepted it as a matter of habit, while casting a cautious glance at Harry who sat down at the table across from him.

"I don't think I understand... Why would you choose to tie yourself to me this way?" Severus asked. "What could you possibly want from me?"

Hearing his words, Harry smiled again. "Friendship?" he offered lightheartedly, but there was a small note of wariness in his voice, as if he was still half-expecting to be rejected.

Severus shook his head ruefully, finding it difficult to bear the note of doubt in Harry's voice, but not wanting to make empty promises, either.

"I thought I'd made it painfully clear by now that I don't know how to be a friend."

"You were Dumbledore's friend," Harry said stubbornly, and almost irritably, as if irked by being forced to compete with a dead mentor for Severus' friendship.

"I was his _ally_," Severus said, but not in a contentious tone of voice, simply wanting to clarify the difference. He'd offered Dumbledore something valuable, and Dumbledore chose to reward that with a genuine friendship.

For a second Harry appeared to be taken aback by Severus' statement, but recovered quickly.

"It's close enough," Harry said with a wry grin. "If it helps any, think of life as war... and be on my side."

To his own surprise, Severus found himself smiling hesitantly as well. "I've always been on your side, Harry," he said. "Nothing can change that."

**To Be Continued ...**


	35. Frailty

**Frailty**

Two weeks after Harry had won the silencing charm argument with Severus, the two of them had settled into a new routine. Severus woke up several times at night. Harry met him downstairs, made tea, and they sat together quietly, until Severus was ready to go back to bed.

Harry knew that even those quiet times constituted progress, because Severus stopped pretending to be wide awake during the day, and cat-napped quietly on the couch in the late afternoons and evenings. Harry still wished Severus would talk more – even if it were to simply scream and rage about something. Anything would be better than the numb, tense silence that hung between them each time Harry asked Severus how he was doing.

**o-o-o-o-o**

"How are you doing?" Harry asked yet again, sliding an obligatory mug of tea towards Severus.

"I wish you'd stop asking that question," Severus said, sounding short on patience.

"I'm concerned about you," Harry said evenly.

Severus glared at him.

"Potter, I realize that I'm in your debt, and as far as the laws of the wizarding world are concerned, there's no part of me that you aren't entitled to, but would you please, for the love of Merlin, permit me to have something that's _mine _alone?"

"Sorry," Harry promptly apologized. "You're right. I won't badger you."

Severus sighed deeply, and shook his head. "No, Potter... I apologize... That was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's ok," Harry said softly. "You don't need to worry about picking the right words with me." Harry reached across the table, wanting to take the man's hand in his. To his surprise, Severus withdrew his hand quickly.

"Don't," Severus said in a barely audible voice. "Potter, I know you want to help, but - don't do... that."

"I thought..."

"I know what you thought," Severus snapped. "You can calm me with a single touch, and you have successfully done so in the past. But _this_ is something I need to start managing on my own."

"Why? Why are you so insistent on managing everything on your own?"

"Because I've found over the years that once you come to depend on something, and it is no longer available, the dearth is a great deal more noticeable and profound."

Harry blinked, suddenly uncertain of what Severus was trying to tell him. "Come again?"

"Do I need to spell everything out for you? Your pitying, patronizing touches will not be always available. I will not be living with you for the rest of my life, Potter. And I have no intention of becoming accustomed to something that is a near equivalent of a powerful narcotic, delivered directly to my nervous system. Is that clear enough for you?"

Harry bowed his head, knowing that Severus was right. Eventually, their lives would diverge, and the impossible, unrealistic intimacy of their current arrangement would wane as well. But still, knowing that Severus had a valid point didn't make it any easier to accept it... If Harry were to be completely honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd gotten used to being able to soothe his friend with nothing but a simple embrace, and make everything all right, if only briefly.

_Countertransference_. At this point, Harry had read enough of Marietta's books to know what it meant: the process by which the healer's own emotional needs and desires begin to flow back into the therapeutic relationship. Harry smiled ruefully.

"Sorry," he said peacefully. "I suppose I got used to being needed."

"It'd serve you well to remember that not everything is about you!" Severus hissed at him, and a moment later, waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sorry again, Potter. I wish you'd stop trying to initiate conversation with me. I may be permanently incapable of... good manners."

Harry let out an amused chuckle. "Good manners are overrated. In general, I much prefer people like you."

"People like me," Severus said, his voice thick with disbelief. "People who snap at you with little to no provocation?"

Harry shrugged, still smiling. "At least I'll always know where I stand with you."

"You don't," Severus said very quietly. "You'll never understand how much it means – even though it shouldn't – how much it means, being able to wake up to knowing that you're in the house, that you're near, that you're still willing to tolerate..."

"I'm not tolerating anything," Harry interrupted him, because he sensed that Severus was about to start speaking ill of himself, and not wanting the conversation to go in that direction. "I'm hanging out with you because I like you. It's really not much more complicated than that."

Severus snorted derisively. "I think the cabin fever has finally set in for you, Potter. You need to get out more."

Harry gave him a long look, before saying, "You know, quite possibly, for the first time in my life, I'm simply doing what I _feel_ like. I feel like spending time with you."

"Why?" Severus demanded with sudden venom entering his voice again. "I realize, it must be incredibly entertaining to watch me like this – weak and useless – but even with your pathetic social life, you could find something else to amuse yourself with."

Slightly stunned by the fact that somehow Severus had managed to insult both of them in one breath, Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Severus shook his head.

"Never mind, Potter. Don't answer that. In fact, don't say anything at all, unless you want another argument on your hands. I'm going to bed."

Severus stood up and stalked out of the kitchen without casting a single glance back.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Harry didn't get any sleep after that strained, angry conversation took place, not that he tried.

When morning came, Harry went to the Burrow to spend time with Lily. Ginny was away for Quidditch practice again, and Lily pounced on Harry, squealing with delight the moment he walked through the door. "We're going to play Exploding Snap, and then, chess, and then, I'm going to read to you!" she declared happily, tugging on Harry's sleeve, getting him to sit down on the carpet next to him. "And grandpa and grandma got a new dog!"

"That's very nice," Harry said peacefully, feeling absolutely worn out by the string of sleepless nights spent with antisocial Snape. He stretched out on the carpet and sighed blissfully. "Tell you what, though, just read to me first. I don't think I can focus on the game right now."

"Why not?" Lily demanded, poking him in the side.

"Ow. I'm tired, that's why."

"Why are you tired?" Lily continued the interrogation.

"My friend is sick," Harry explained quietly, reaching for Lily's tiny hand. "He's not sleeping well. I'm keeping him company. Just like mum and I kept you company when you were teething. Same thing."

Lily's face scrunched up slightly. "Is Sev'rus teething?" she asked hesitantly.

"Well," Harry mused. "Hmm. He does have more bite than usual, so maybe he is. Now, what was that book you were going to read to me?"

**o-o-o-o-o**

He woke up in the late afternoon, lying on his back on the carpeted floor of the Burrow's living room with Lily, sound asleep as well, curled up next to him, and Molly's new dog, a brown, shaggy mutt, licking his hair. The book that Lily had started to read to him was lying on the carpet, opened on the first page.

Harry sat up abruptly, and rubbed his eyes.

He heard a quiet, barely audible snicker, turned his head and saw Hermione sitting on the couch, curled into herself, watching him and Lily with a small smile on her lips.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, picking Lily up from the floor. She stirred slightly in his arms but didn't wake.

"Don't you dare bark," Harry said to the dog meaningfully, and went upstairs to carry Lily to her bedroom.

He tucked her in and kissed her brow, and Lily smiled in her sleep. Even though he was now spending more time with her than ever before, Harry missed having his daughter in the same house, missed it so much that even missing Ginny seemed dull in comparison.

He sighed slightly, and shut the bedroom door, before heading downstairs.

"What brings you over?" Harry asked, sitting down on the couch across from Hermione.

Hermione smiled again. "Molly and Arthur took Rose to Muggle London. Ron is going to be working late tonight, so..." she shrugged slightly. "I thought I'd drop by and see how you and Lily are doing."

"I'm fine," Harry said, covering his mouth to suppress a hearty yawn. "I'm a terrible father, that's all."

Hermione shook her head slightly. "Nonsense, Harry. You're a wonderful father."

"I fell asleep while my daughter was reading to me," Harry complained.

"But you're spending time with her," Hermione pointed out. "And you're tired, because you're taking care of your friend. And she's growing up knowing she's loved, and learning how to be compassionate..."

"I'm not exactly doing a wonderful job with Severus either," Harry muttered. "You know, for a while there, everything was going so well, and now... He keeps waking up in the middle of the night. He's remembering things... I think... but doesn't want to talk about any of it."

Hermione nodded slowly in understanding. "What else?"

"That's it, really," Harry said, trying not to feel too miserable about Severus' pulling away from a simple friendly gesture last night. "He's angry. And he just wants to be left alone."

"Won't let you touch him?" Hermione guessed.

"Mmhm."

"That, in itself, isn't a bad thing," Hermione mused. "He's reasserting his personal space. His right to exclude others. And given his experiences, I don't imagine he'll want to be pawed..."

"I wasn't _pawing_ him!" Harry snapped irritably. "I just thought – after all the shit he's been through, a friendly touch might be a welcome change of pace."

"Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't," Hermione murmured quietly, appearing absorbed in her own thoughts.

Harry stared at her intently, surprised by the slightly withdrawn look on her face, the kind he hadn't seen in years.

"Hermione?" he asked gently. "What is it?"

She sniffled quietly, and almost childishly. "Remember the Manor?" she asked softly. "When Bellatrix had me, and..." she hesitated slightly, as if not sure whether or not she should continue.

"When Bellatrix was torturing you. Yes, of course I remember," Harry said quietly. They had talked about it at length a number of times, of course, but it seemed that Hermione was going to say something that he hadn't heard before.

Hermione nodded and spoke again.

"There was this one time, where Bellatrix took a break from the Cruciatus, and just stared at me, and smiled. And I felt like I couldn't handle much more of that - I thought I really was going to die, you understand," Hermione added, as if trying to explain something that she hadn't said yet. "And then, she, uh, she started petting my hair. And kissed me on the forehead." Hermione's face contorted into a disgusted grimace. "And I was so – out of it, that I just..." she bit her lip before continuing, "I just closed my eyes and pretended that I was back home, that I was five years old, and my mum was kissing my head and getting ready to brush my hair..." Hermione's eyes darted in Harry's direction, as if, against her better judgement, she half-expected him to scold her. "And after that, once the war was over, everything was fine, but then, Ron kissed me on the forehead once, and I freaked out, and then I couldn't get it out of my head. Bellatrix, that is. I kept thinking about it all the time... For about three months, I didn't let anyone touch me at all, well, you remember, I'm sure. You and Ginny were coming over every day, trying to find out what exactly was wrong with me." Hermione smiled ruefully. "It's not that it didn't feel good – when Ron was trying to hug me and such - it felt good in the moment, but I'd hate myself afterwards. I guess I didn't want to remember how pathetic I'd been, you know?"

Harry bit his lip, more than anything wanting to scream in outrage, or maybe wanting to bring Bellatrix back to life and kill her all over again. Somehow, he managed to suppress an enraged outburst, and said firmly, "Hermione, you were far, far from pathetic. You were a hero. Come on, an eighteen year old girl, captured by one of the nastiest Death Eaters in Wizarding history..."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I know that. In retrospect, I guess I did all right, where the war is concerned. It's all right now, really, just back then..." She shrugged slightly. "I'm sorry," she added in an almost normal tone of voice. "Where were we? We were talking about Snape, I believe. Anyway, this is normal. The nightmares, the anger, him wanting to be left alone. Given how he spent the last seven years, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later."

"But why now?" Harry protested. "He was doing reasonably well, and I thought things were going to get better once I quit my job and stopped being a moody prat all the time... but instead of helping matters, I think I just made things worse somehow!"

"I really don't think so," Hermione said softly. "Maybe once you were home all the time, and stopped being a moody prat, as you put it, his unconscious decided it was safe for some things that had been suppressed for a long time to re-emerge. I don't think it's a coincidence that his magic re-emerged around the same time as well."

"Hmm." Harry sighed. "I hope you're right." He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed slightly. "I guess Ginny will be returning any moment. I'll clear out before she comes back..."

Hermione's face acquired a sad expression once again.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said sincerely. "I know you hoped you two would work things out..."

"Yes, thanks," Harry said with a small shrug. "You know, after all of the shit we've been through during the war, it never occurred to me that we'd be getting a divorce one day."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Strange, isn't it. You'd think once the war was over, everything would be just fine, hmm?"

"I never thought that," Harry said morosely, standing up. "You can win the war, but I don't think you can ever _end_ it. Not really."

"What a terrible thing to say, Harry," Hermione protested weakly, rising to her feet again to give him a small hug. She sniffed the air around him and sighed. "You've got dog drool in your hair, you know?"

Harry issued a small, unhappy chuckle. "May it be our greatest worry for years to come."

**To Be Continued...**


	36. The Bids Not High Enough

**The Bids Not High Enough**

The rest of the summer, what was left of it, was spent in a haze of nightmares and halfhearted arguments with Harry, which eventually waned, as Severus' rage and irritation gave way to dreary numbness.

At the end of the summer, Severus was simply tired. He was worn out by the lack of sleep, by his own weakness, and by the fact that his life appeared to be at a standstill. Was it due to his own frailty, or due to the restrictions on his freedom, or both? He didn't know, and eventually, he stopped caring. Severus would have lost track of the days altogether, if not for the work he did for Hannah in her rooftop garden.

The first day of September greeted him with the faint rattling of the autumn rain against the windows. He got up, shaking his head to cast off the remnants of the nightmares, and headed to the shower. He leaned against the shower wall, and sighed tiredly, as the sound of the rain and the sound of the running water mingled together to form a quiet, anxious drumming.

When he finally exited the shower, feeling neither rested nor refreshed, he heard echoes of subdued conversations in the living room. He recognized Luna's snicker, Harry's voice, and voices of others he couldn't identify. Severus got dressed quickly and headed downstairs.

When he entered the living room, he halted in his steps, seeing Amos Diggory himself, in the middle of the living room, with four uniformed Aurors standing behind him with their wands drawn.

Harry was sitting on the couch, facing them. Luna Lovegood was curled up in the armchair across from Harry, with a slender hardback book resting in her lap. She appeared to be completely focused on reading, as if there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happening right in front of her.

"Good morning, Professor," Luna said brightly without lifting her eyes.

"Mr. Snape," one of the Aurors said in a businesslike tone. "We're here to request that you come with us to the Auror office for a... conversation."

"Really?" Severus said indifferently. "What sort of conversation?"

"He means _interrogation_," Luna clarified helpfully, without lifting her head from the book. "He's just trying to make you feel better."

"There's no need to be dramatic," the other Auror said tersely. "We understand that Mr. Snape spent the last seven years in one of the Death Eater compounds. Whatever knowledge he has, may prove to be helpful in dismantling Death Eater compounds in the future. So, Mr. Snape, if you'll come with us, you'll be back home by evening."

Severus bowed his head. He could smell the lie hanging in the air, but he didn't know what the nature of the lie was. He only knew, with absolute certainty, that if he set his foot outside of Harry's home, he would not be back by evening, or possibly at all. Still, he didn't see any way out of disobeying the lawful authorities, and a moment later, he suddenly realized that nothing mattered – not really. For a second, it seemed like a strange, incongruous way to end his life – rendering the short-lived post-rescue euphoria utterly meaningless. But the disappointment that should have come with this thought just wasn't there. In it's place was a blank, all-pervading apathy, and Severus simply nodded to acknowledge the impersonal order.

"All right," Severus said quietly, without looking at anyone. "That's fine."

Harry lifted his hand and that simple, authoritative gesture stopped Severus in his tracks.

"No," Harry said in a very calm tone of voice. "Nobody is going anywhere, except Mr. Diggory and his colleagues, who were just leaving." Harry turned his head towards his former employer and a small, unpleasant smile crossed his lips. "Weren't you?"

"We aren't leaving anywhere without him," Diggory said. "Harry, I realize that you no longer work for the Office, but surely you are still willing to help prevent further terrorist attacks on innocent civilians?"

"Funny," Harry said quietly, bemused. "Two months ago, you made it blindingly clear that you won't accept a Pensieve, or the results of Legilimency scans to establish his innocence. And yet, now you're more than willing to raid his mind for information that'll be _helpful_ to you. Can you explain this apparent incongruency to me, Amos? Because I seem to be missing something."

"There are new, experimental disinhibiting potions that are stronger than the traditional Veritaserum," Diggory replied quickly. "And there are also aggressive Legilimency scans that can bypass the normal Occlumency shields..."

"Oh, you mean the kind that cause irreversible brain damage?" Luna inquired nonchalantly. "I don't think I like that. I'm quite sure Mr. Snape isn't fond of the idea, either."

"Mr. Snape's opinion isn't relevant," one of the Aurors said tersely. "As far as the law of the Wizarding World is concerned, he's not human. He's a piece of property. And we have a subpoena..."

Harry's face acquired a genuinely malicious expression.

"You know, over the course of the last two months, I've had a chance to catch up on a lot of reading," Harry said in a neutral tone of voice that didn't match the fierce glare of his eyes. "It's amazing how much you can learn from old law articles. One thing that I clearly recall is that a piece of property can't be subpoenaed."

"Property can be confiscated to aid the war effort," Diggory said stubbornly.

"We're at war then?" Harry countered instantly. "That's very interesting. Because just a week ago, the _Prophet_ cited you saying that there's no war, and that everything is under control."

"This is very exciting," Luna confirmed, flashing an obscenely innocent smile in Diggory's direction. "I can't wait to publish that in the _Quibbler_. May I quote you on that, Mr Diggory? Will you be declaring a state of war soon?"

Diggory's face acquired a stormy expression, and he turned away from Harry. His eyes fixed on Snape instead. "Tell me one thing, Snape," Diggory intoned coldly. "Are you in good health? You appear to be. I find it very curious."

"Enough," Harry snapped abruptly. "We are done here. Get out."

Diggory ignored Harry altogether, as if nothing had been said.

"I find it very curious," Diggory continued to talk without missing a beat. "You see, Snape, other prisoners we've rescued from your kind over the years have been mutilated beyond recognition. They are missing limbs, eyes, ears, tongues, internal organs. My own son didn't last a minute after falling into your colleagues' hands. You, however, seem to be... just fine. So tell me, if you really were a traitor to the Dark Lord's side, what _did_ you do to escape unscathed, with all your limbs intact?"

Severus shrugged apathetically. He knew full well that Diggory was baiting him, trying to force some sort of outburst – but Severus' mind was completely blank, and no response made itself available.

Harry stood up abruptly and walked towards Diggory quickly, until he was nose to nose with the older wizard. There was nothing naive or peaceful or youthful about Harry's expression then. The green eyes shone with an unearthly rage that reminded Severus all too well that those eyes had seen the light of Voldemort's Killing Curse four times. A small chill ran down Severus' spine, because he suddenly had the distinct impression that something very unpleasant was about to transpire.

"I'll be very direct with you," Harry told Diggory, staring at him without blinking. "You've overstayed your welcome. You're trespassing. Remove yourself and your people from my home at once."

Diggory, however, didn't seem to think that Harry was a force to be reckoned with.

"Or what?" he challenged Harry, and his lips curled into a contemptuous smile.

"Or _I_ will remove you," Harry informed him, without reaching for his wand, his arms still crossed. "Don't even think for a moment that an illegal arrest is going to work here."

"And just how are you planning to remove us?" Diggory continued to taunt. The four Aurors behind him moved to raise their wands.

A moment later, the door of Harry's house swung open. An invisible force, that felt like a gush of freezing wind when it brushed past Severus, struck against Diggory and his men, immobilizing them, lifting them off their feet and tossing them out of the house in a blink of an eye. As soon as the intruders were out, the door slammed shut, and locked itself.

Luna lifted her head and gave Harry a small, dreamy smile.

"That's very nice, Harry. I didn't know you could do that."

**o-o-o-o-o**

As soon as Diggory and his goons left, Severus slipped away and hid in his study. He realized that the prospect of being arrested and imprisoned again should have left him terrified, maybe angry, but at the moment his affect was one long flatline, without a single spike.

He sighed wearily, and settled at his desk, staring at the clear surface. He was still too tired to do anything, but not so tired as to brave falling asleep and facing nightmares until it was absolutely necessary.

He heard soft, tentative footsteps behind his door and tensed, waiting for Harry to knock.

"Severus?" Harry called out, giving the door a quiet tap.

"Yes, Potter?"

"May I come in?"

"It's your house," Severus said dryly. "You may come and go as you please."

"What do you prefer?" Harry asked. "Do you prefer that I stay out?"

"I'd prefer for you to make up your mind and do as you please," Severus said indifferently, feeling that the conversation through the closed door was getting to be a bit ridiculous.

The door opened with a quiet squeak, and Harry entered the study, casting a cautious glance at Severus.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, coming up to his desk and sitting down across from him.

Severus shrugged indifferently and shook his head.

"You should have just let them take me, Potter," he said tiredly. "You've done what you could. The rest... is not your responsibility."

Harry's eyes flashed with the same intensity that they had half an hour ago, while he was talking to Diggory.

"You've only just begun to live," Harry said. "Why would you want to throw your life away so soon?"

"I see no point hanging on to something unattainable," Severus said, without any resentment or irritation. "We both know that the Ministry will never allow me to be vindicated. We both know that I'll never be free. And we both know, that I'll never..." Severus shrugged, unsure what to say, or how to express the faint, inexplicable longing that Harry's proximity sparked. He still remembered the welcome of the arms that held him up in his darkest hour, and for the briefest of moments he was tempted to stand up and reach out for Harry, allowing himself to be soothed and pitied the way he never had been until Harry re-entered his life.

Somehow, he had the presence of mind not to do that, and simply continued to sit motionlessly, with his arms crossed on his chest.

"Never what?" Harry asked quietly, watching him with concern.

"I'll never have a normal human life," Severus said in a barely audible voice. "I've never mastered the art of simply _living_. You're wasting your time on someone who can neither repay you for your efforts, nor make good use of them. It'd be wise to give up on this particular project and cut your losses."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and looked down.

"You aren't a project," he said in a voice that was both soft and firm at once. "You're my friend. You're tired, and you've hit a rough patch, but the situation is far from hopeless. You have other friends too, and we're working on restoring your name. Don't think that this state will last forever – it won't. It might take some time, but... it will get better, I promise. Just – please, give us time, and give yourself time, as well. All right?"

Severus stared at Harry blankly, suddenly realizing that some sort of answer was expected from him. What was it? Ah, yes. Time. As if continuing to plug away automatically at meaningless tasks was going to make up for the seven years of life lost, never to be recovered.

"Time," Severus echoed mindlessly. "Very well, Harry. As you wish."

Harry winced slightly, as if Severus had said something wrong, which he might have, without even recognizing it.

"Well, you should get ready," Harry said softly.

"Ready?" Severus repeated. "For what?"

"Work. It's Tuesday. Do you feel up to it?"

Severus shrugged again. As weeks went by, and he'd devised more and more intricate spells to automate the upkeep of Hannah's rooftop garden, he realized that his presence there was no longer required. He suspected that she was simply keeping him out of pity, as a convenient excuse to pass some money to him, the money he'd been giving to Harry to cover at least some of the expenses that Harry had doubtlessly incurred while hosting him. The thought of being pitied didn't irk him as much as it would have even three weeks ago. It merely underscored the impossible stupidity of his situation: accepting charity of one person, in order to partially repay the charity of another.

"I don't think you require my income from the Leaky Cauldron," Severus said listlessly. "If you need money to pay for my stay with you, you can sell my house at Spinner's End."

"I'm not selling it," Harry said flatly. "It's your home."

"You're assuming I have some sort of sentimental attachment to it. I don't."

"Then you can sell it yourself when you're ready to leave," Harry said reasonably. "But right now... there's no need."

"If money isn't an issue, then why are you worried about my work at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I thought you were enjoying it," Harry said hesitantly.

"I was," Severus confessed – even though at the moment he couldn't quite remember what enjoying anything felt like.

"Then my suggestion is to stick with it," Harry said evenly. "I know it's not much for now, but... you never know what might come out of it, you know?"

"No, I don't," Severus said quietly. "However, I suppose you're right. I'll get ready."

"Good," Harry said. "I firecalled Hannah, told her you're running a bit late. I also told her to watch out for Aurors ready to make an unauthorized arrest, and contact me immediately if Diggory tries something like that."

"I see," Severus said, and remembering his manners, added, "thank you for that."

Harry nodded slightly and stood up. "I'll see you in a couple of hours then. One thing at a time, all right?"

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Severus finally departed to work, Luna lifted her head from her book and gave Harry a sad smile.

"I wonder what that was all about," Harry said thoughtfully, stretching out on the couch and shutting his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Just – I wonder what Diggory and his goons want with Severus," Harry said.

"Well, on the surface, it seems reasonable that they'd want to question him, and collect any information they can on the Death Eater compounds," Luna pointed out sensibly.

"Yes, but they didn't want _information_," Harry said with growing irritation, feeling like he was onto something important that nobody else appeared to have noticed. "If they'd wanted information, they would have bargained. They'd have asked to question him right here, in my presence. They'd have requested a Pensieve. But they didn't. They wanted Snape to come _with them_. No, Diggory is playing some kind of game..."

"True," Luna conceded, bemused. "Can you prove any of it?"

"Absolutely not," Harry said wearily, causing Luna to issue a tiny, unhappy chuckle.

"So what are you going to do?" Luna asked.

"I'm going to send a message to Ron at home tonight and tell him to keep his ears open," Harry said, turning to lie on his side, and shutting his eyes.

"Good. By the way, that was quite a feat – throwing Diggory and the Aurors out like that," Luna pointed out. "Very dramatic. How did you do that?"

"Well," Harry muttered sleepily. "Technically, it wasn't me."

"Oh?"

"It was the house wards. They respond to unspoken commands," Harry explained. "Dumbledore installed some really powerful wards when my parents went into hiding here. Obviously, the wards weren't nearly enough to protect the house against Voldemort – but against Diggory, they'll hold up without a problem."

Luna's voice was thick with astonishment. "You've managed to access wards that are quarter of a century old and restore them? Harry, that's incredible!"

"It's not that incredible," Harry dismissed the matter quickly. "I've spent the last five years dismantling the wards on Death Eater compounds. It'd be a shame if I didn't learn anything... by the way," Harry added absently, "I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you, you didn't need to come over today. Ginny took Lily to see Bill and Fleur, and I'm not going to the Burrow... I think I'll just sleep, and take Severus shopping in Diagon Alley today."

"That's okay, Harry," Luna said. "If you just want to spend time with Severus this afternoon, I'll house sit for you while you are out. I don't mind."

Harry turned to face her and nodded gratefully. Even though the recently improved house wards were as secure as they could get in the wizarding world, having someone in the house at all times still made him feel better.

"You won't miss too much work because of us, will you?" Harry checked.

Luna smiled serenely. "Of course not. In fact, I'm going to bill my father for the time I spend here." Met with Harry's confused gaze, Luna explained, "Once we've got everything worked out once and for all, I reckon I'll have quite a story to tell."

**To Be Continued...**


	37. Deliberations

**Deliberations**

Harry had fully intended to catch up on sleep, but instead of dozing off, he continued to turn and toss on the couch, unable to get the confrontation with Diggory out of his mind. Luna appeared to be completely unperturbed by Harry's twitching, as she continued to read through her book, without lifting her head, or paying any attention to him. Even the soft rustling of the pages as Luna turned them made him irritated, and Harry stood up abruptly, and left after saying a quick goodbye to Luna.

Harry decided that he wanted to talk to both Ron and Percy sooner, rather than later, but showing up at the Auror Office didn't seem like a good move at this point. Instead, Harry Apparated to the Burrow, and knocked on the door.

Molly greeted him with a cheerful smile and hugged him instantly.

"I know that Ginny and Lily are away today..." Harry started saying, but Molly interrupted him at once.

"Nonsense, Harry, you don't need an excuse to come over. Are you hungry?" She took a hold of his elbow, leading him inside. She pointed to the familiar, cozy couch and Harry sank into it gratefully.

"I'm not hungry, no," Harry said, "but thank you."

"Tea maybe?" Molly offered hopefully.

"I'll take a coffee if you don't mind it," Harry said.

"Of course."

The coffeemaker went on, and Harry sat on the couch, watching Molly quietly while she made the coffee. He couldn't help noticing the slight shaking of the hand that she lifted to her face discreetly to dab away a stray tear.

"I'm really sorry, Harry," Molly said sincerely, returning to the living room to hand him a mug of hot coffee.

"Oh. Um, thanks." Harry said awkwardly, as Molly's gentle voice suddenly made him feel homesick beyond all reason. "I'm sorry, too. I mean, it really was mostly my fault. The mood swings, and every time work came up, instead of telling Diggory to shove it, I just took one assignment after another, and sent Lily off to be with you..."

"Well, for what it's worth, I never, ever complained to Ginny about Lily being here," Molly said ruefully. "It really was our pleasure - that's what grandparents are for. And as for mood swings, I should tell you about Arthur in his youth – now that was one temperamental fellow..." she glanced at Harry, undoubtedly noticing his tension, and said softly, "But I take it you didn't come to hear me natter about my youth. What is it, Harry? Everything all right?"

"Yes, everything is okay," Harry said, "I just... need to talk to Ron and Percy as soon as possible, and I didn't want to firecall them at work – as far as Diggory is concerned, Ron and I aren't talking..."

"No problem. I'll get them both to drop by right away. Give me a minute."

She walked over to the Hearth to place a firecall to Ron's workplace, and her demanding voice had nearly instant results. Whatever business Ron and Percy had didn't stand in the way of their emerging through the Floo in the Burrow's living room.

"I'll let you three talk," Molly said, departing to go upstairs, and Ron sat on the couch, turning to face Harry. Percy sat down in an armchair across from them, his face bearing an unhappy scowl.

"Harry," Percy said a little stiffly. "Diggory is fit to be tied this morning. He doesn't say what's going on, except that it, whatever _it_ is, is all your fault. Do you mind explaining to me how you manage to get under his skin even when you aren't working for the Office anymore?"

"It's a gift," Harry said dryly. "For your information, Diggory showed up at my place with four Aurors by his side, trying to get his hands on Snape."

Ron's mouth opened wide in surprise. "No kidding? How did you get out of it?"

"I threw them out," Harry said a little sheepishly, even as the utter bewilderment at having ejected the Minister of Magic out of the house finally set in. Across from him, Percy looked like he was going to be ill.

"Impressive," Ron said sincerely. "Why did they want Snape?"

"Presumably to question him about his imprisonment," Harry said. "But..."

"But you just _threw them out,_" Percy cut him off. "I don't understand, Harry... why didn't you let Snape be questioned?"

"I wasn't comfortable with that," Harry said flatly. "Besides, I don't think they wanted _information_. I think they wanted Snape for something else..."

"And do you have any proof of that?" Percy demanded instantly. "Or is it one of those things that you _just_ _know_?"

Harry shot Percy an irritated glance. "Look, I could tell Diggory was lying. And I wasn't about to let Snape go with them – and don't stare at me like that. Diggory was trying to pull an illegal arrest. I was within my rights... and if he tries to claim otherwise, well, Luna was there to witness the whole thing."

Percy muttered something clearly venomous under his breath, but held his tongue. Ron glanced at Harry with undisguised worry.

"Do you think Diggory is going to... retaliate? Do something nasty?" Ron asked hesitantly, clearly troubled by the possibility.

Harry shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage, which was no easy task, given the knot of anxiety that had found a place in the pit of his stomach. "What could he do? I don't work for him anymore."

Percy twitched slightly. "Harry, Diggory, if he puts his mind to it, can do a lot of things. He can discredit you..."

"Not without making himself look a complete prick to the general public, given how much I supported his campaign," Harry pointed out coolly. "Maybe you should remind him of that, if he decides to try."

"And maybe you should have let Diggory and his men take Snape," Percy said in a slightly shrill voice. "First of all, you don't want to make an enemy of Diggory. Second... realistically, Snape would probably be safer in a Ministry holding cell, than in your house. Not to mention that it's not safe_ for you_ to keep him around either, with the kind of trouble that seems to be following him..."

"Don't be a git, Percy," Harry snapped, barely able to hold his temper in check. "Snape isn't going anywhere."

"Oh, really?" Percy challenged him with genuine frustration entering his voice. "_You_ are going to guard him against all the rogue Death Eaters, whose primary goal now is to recapture him and kill him? Tell me, how long are you going to be able to sustain this? Another month? A year? The rest of your life? How long until the Death Eaters target your family?" Percy's voice was carrying a hysterical note in it, and Harry simply listened to him quietly, allowing him to vent. "Harry, what are you going to do if the Death Eaters kidnap Lily, and demand for you to turn Snape over to them in exchange for her life?"

Harry's hands balled up into fists at the mention of Lily's name.

"Nobody is going to touch Lily," Harry said sharply. "We'll keep her safe. We're all in this together: if someone should attack, the entire group will respond at once. Besides, Ginny knows not to let her guard down..."

"Though I'll mention it to her again," Ron added grimly.

"That's not the point!" Percy nearly shouted.

"Then what _is_ the point?" Harry demanded tersely. "Yes, it could be dangerous for all of us, but we don't give up on our own when things get tough..."

"_That_ is my point," Percy snapped at him. "Snape _isn't _one of us. He was playing both sides for his own reasons until it backfired on him..." Met with Harry's murderous glare, Percy added quickly, "in a terrible way, I admit, but just because you found him hurt and babbling for help doesn't mean he's _one of us_. He was never Voldemort's man, and he was never Dumbledore's man, and he won't be _yours_ either, no matter how many firewhiskys you drink with him. The sooner you realize that, and stop jeopardizing your family for him, the better off we'll all be."

Percy stood up abruptly, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossing it into the hearth, and departing before Ron and Harry could say another word.

"Trust Percy to start freaking out at the first sign of trouble," Ron muttered under his breath, but Harry could tell that he was genuinely troubled by the questions Percy had brought up.

"You know, whenever I talk to him, I end up wanting to shake him," Harry said wearily.

"I know. Me too, mostly. But he's just worried about Ginny, and Lily... and you," Ron said with a slightly apologetic note in his voice. "Give him time, Harry. He'll come around eventually." Ron stood up as well and gave Harry's shoulder a tight squeeze. "Say, mate, you don't think you've... overreacted? Maybe there isn't some grand Ministry conspiracy to kidnap Snape? Maybe they really just wanted to question him, and that's all..."

Harry scowled at once, and shrugged Ron's hand off.

"Not you too, Ron," Harry said bitterly. "No, I'm not overreacting. I know when people lie to me."

Ron nodded seriously, and gave Harry a tiny smile. "Just checking. If you say so – it's good enough for me. I trust your judgement. I'll see you later."

"Right," Harry said absently. "Ron, if you hear something..."

"Of course," Ron said firmly. "I'll try to find out what Diggory is up to. If I do, I'll let you know right away."

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Severus entered Hanna's empty pub, she rushed to him and threw her arms around him, making him flinch slightly and take a step back.

"Sorry, Professor," she said sheepishly, releasing him from her embrace. "Harry told me what happened this morning. That's really... well, I guess we shouldn't expect any better from the Ministry these days, but still!"

"If you'd rather not have me in your establishment, given the type of trouble that I attract..." Severus started saying, but Hannah cut him off before he had a chance to finish his statement.

"That's not it at all," Hannah said indignantly. "I hope you aren't implying that Neville and I are afraid of a good fight?"

"Oh no, I would never dare to imply that a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff would have a shred of common sense between the two of them," Severus said dryly. For a second he was worried that she might take offence at his thoughtless sarcasm, but Hannah just laughed, and gave him a small nudge to go upstairs.

Walking in slow, measured steps, Severus finally entered the rooftop garden. He was surprised to find his spells, the ones he'd designed to automatically irrigate and upkeep the flower beds, removed. He frowned slightly, noticing other changes in the garden that had taken place while he was gone – the moved tanks of earth, pots with new plants, and new starter plants that had been dropped off at some point.

"Hello," he heard a voice behind his back. Severus turned around to see Neville Longbottom standing in the doorway to the garden. "I guess I should have asked you first if it was all right to mess with your setup," Neville said, giving him a small, guarded smile.

Severus shrugged indifferently. "It's your home and your garden, Mr. Longbottom. You can do as you please."

"Well, don't talk like that. I guess I just got carried away this weekend." Neville shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

Severus stared at him point-blank. It took him a long minute to recall the reason that Neville shouldn't be here.

"Why aren't you in school?" Severus asked, finally remembering Harry mentioning that Neville taught Herbology at Hogwarts.

"The Board of Governors decided to terminate my contract," Neville explained with poorly feigned indifference.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Why did they do that?"

Neville shrugged. "I don't know. I actually thought I was doing a decent job. They didn't really give me a reason, they just sent me a nice letter, saying that my services won't be required this year." Neville's eyes narrowed slightly and he took a deep breath as if to calm himself. "So anyway, about the garden... I spent the weekend feeling sorry for myself and driving Hannah crazy, and then yesterday I decided to do something with my time – that I will likely have entirely too much of right now, and..."

"I see," Severus said dryly. "Well, I'm sorry to hear about your loss. Please convey my thanks to Hannah, and tell her that I was happy to be of assistance while it was needed."

He took a few steps towards the exit, only to find Neville following him.

"Wait – what? Are you quitting? Just because I took down some spells and rearranged some flower pots? Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

Severus gave him a long look. "Mr. Longbottom, seeing that your family income has declined, _and_ you have the spare time on your hands, I believe my services are no longer required. And I do not need you to humour me, and keep me employed out of pity – although your wife has done an excellent job of it in the last three months..."

"Stop it!" Neville snapped at him, appearing to be irritated more than anything else. "You're just being territorial!"

"No," Severus said softly. "That would presume I'm holding on to a delusion that I can call _any_ territory my own. I assure you, I'm not." Severus paused slightly and added quietly. "I'm sorry about your job, Longbottom. You seem like the type who... doesn't despise the children."

Neville smirked wryly at Severus' words. "A compliment?"

"An observation," Severus said mildly, feeling his lips twisting into a semi-amused smile as well.

Smiling cautiously, they stared at each other for a long minute, and eventually the tension began to dissipate.

"Look, let's talk about this," Neville said finally. "I have an idea."

They sat down together on the edge of one of the flower beds, facing each other.

"How is your Herbology?" Neville asked point-blank.

Severus shrugged. "I don't know. Herbology at an intermediate level is a requirement for all Potions graduates, but..."

"But?" Neville prompted him cautiously.

"It was a long time ago. I doubt I... remember much at this point."

"The point is, would you be willing to try? I have some books for you that you can read and refresh what you already know, and we can get into advanced Herbology next. I think I want to try my hand at plant-breeding, create some experimental herbs, and sell them."

"What do you need me for?" Severus asked tiredly. "You obviously have some ideas – and sufficient knowledge to realize them. Paying my salary out of courtesy seems... excessive."

"I'm not offering you a salary. I'm offering you a business partnership. If it takes off, we'll both benefit from it equally. If it flops – well, we'll think of something else."

"A partnership," Severus mused, more than slightly taken aback by Neville's proposal. "I still don't understand what my part in this so-called partnership would be?"

"Lots of things," Neville said. "Some practical help with the plant upkeep, someone to brainstorm with regarding the plant-breeding, grafting procedures, new spells – once you catch up on your Herbology, that is. Finally, you can help research the market for the new herbs – I might be able to create a lot of new plants, but I need to know which potions they'd be good for in order to find buyers, and estimate a fair asking price..."

"You can do the necessary research yourself," Severus pointed out stubbornly.

"Not as quickly, and not as well," Neville said. "Look, why are you even arguing about this? What's the big deal about working with me? Do you still dislike me that much?"

Severus shook his head mutely. At this point, there was no trace of dislike left for any of his former students. Still, what Neville was proposing felt... daunting. He wasn't sure he could manage what was expected from him. Recalling Potions had proved to be difficult enough – although he'd managed to make some progress in that area – but mastering a whole new subject seemed almost beyond his capacity at the moment. It didn't help at all that he felt he owed it to Harry to at least make an attempt to earn some money and start contributing to the household hosting him – it only made the prospect of failure even more intimidating.

"I think you're overestimating my abilities," Severus said wearily. "I've been gone for seven years."

A long, tense pause ensued, as the word _gone_ hung between them, rich with its unspoken implications.

"You aren't gone anymore, though," Neville said quietly. "Just try it. I think you'd be really good at it... you know how to care for the plants – I know that much. That network of spells you've set up is a real wonder."

"If it's such a wonder, why did you remove it?" Severus asked, finding it difficult to believe either praise or reassurance at this moment.

"I didn't remove it," Neville said. "Just... deactivated it temporarily. I want to try some grafting spells on some of the new plants I brought in, and I need them to be magically pure for the experiments to work. Once the grafts take, we can turn your network back on." Neville's eyes darted in Severus' direction. "Gee, who knew you were going to be so sensitive about it..."

"I'm _not_ sensitive!" Severus snapped with newly found irritation, and saw an incredibly satisfied grin on Neville's face. "Are you baiting me?"

"Maybe just a little," Neville said peacefully. "So what do you say? Do you want to get started?"

"Fine," Severus agreed. "I suppose there's no harm in trying. I'll be back once I've had the time to read through your materials..."

"You could stay here," Neville offered. "I mean – you could read here. You could come here every day to read. We've got a quiet reading room. It's a bit small, but – it's nice... and this way, if you have any questions or comments, I'll be nearby."

Severus thought over the suggestion quietly. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea – he had a feeling he was spending entirely too much time sitting in Harry's home. For all he knew, Harry would appreciate having some normal routine to his own life that didn't involve Severus getting under his feet all day long.

"All right," Severus said at last.

**o-o-o-o-o**

"Harry, you haven't touched your coffee." Molly's voice brought Harry out of his numb stupor.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had spent simply sitting on the couch in the living room, staring into his mug after Ron departed. It must have been a while, because the coffee had gone from hot to lukewarm, and he had yet to drink a single sip.

"You look so tired," Molly said softly. "And you look like you might be coming down with a cold - are you strutting the streets in _this_ weather wearing nothing but a robe over your shirt?"

"It's not that cold," Harry protested instantly, but Molly was already retreating into a small den to look for something. She returned a few minutes later, placing a familiar bright red jumper with golden embroidery in Harry's hands.

"You left it here last Christmas," Molly said with a rueful smile. "You didn't even wear it once. One might think you don't like them as much as you always say you do..."

Harry squeezed the jumper tightly, a tangible reminder of the times when he knew he could count on a new piece of Molly's knitting being deposited in his hands every holiday.

"I love them all," Harry said sincerely. "I think my absolute favourite was the green one, with the dragon..."

"Oh, that one. You grew out of it so quickly," Molly said wistfully. "Maybe I should knit you a green one for this coming Christmas..." Her eyes darted in Harry's direction. "You're going to spend Christmas with us this year, aren't you?"

"Er - I don't know," Harry said uncomfortably, as the possibility of having to spend Christmas away from Lily began to dawn on him. "I'll need to ask Ginny. I don't want it to be awkward."

For a minute he had a distinct impression that Molly was going to express some sort of hope that things might still work out between him and Ginny, but Molly simply looked at Harry thoughtfully, and gave him a motherly smile.

"It won't be awkward," she said reassuringly. "You should definitely come, and bring Severus as well. It just wouldn't be the same without you. Lily would miss you terribly, and so would I and Arthur."

"All right," Harry agreed. "We'll try to make it then. Thanks."

Molly glanced at him with concern.

"You look so tired, Harry. Are you not sleeping well – both of you?"

"No, not really," Harry admitted, barely able to suppress a yawn, as the weariness of the numerous sleepless nights began to catch up with him.

"Well, that's not a good thing," Molly said gently. "You know, when you're taking care of someone, one of the most difficult things to do is to allow yourself to be healthy, when someone you love, isn't. I've raised seven children, so I know all about that – you realize you won't do Severus any good if you allow yourself to get sick, too?"

"I suppose you're right," Harry agreed, not feeling inclined to argue.

"Why don't you take a nap now?" Molly offered suddenly.

Harry smiled sheepishly, suddenly feeling almost like a child again, with Molly fussing over him for no other reason than that he was Ron's best mate. He sighed slightly, realizing suddenly how much he was going to miss the Burrow following his divorce from Ginny. For all their problems and arguments, the Burrow really had become his second home, and most of the happiest days of his life had been spent here, together with Ginny and Lily.

Molly appeared to sense his hesitation, because she said very quietly, but with a true firmness in her voice, "Harry, dear, I know what's on your mind, but you can't start thinking this way. I'm deeply sorry you and Ginny didn't work out. But Arthur and I cared for you long before you and Ginny got together, and nothing is going to change that, all right? Now, stop worrying and nap. I won't let you oversleep, I promise."

"I really should go home," Harry felt the need to issue one last protest, even as his weary body betrayed him, sinking deeper into the comfort of the couch.

"You _are_ home, silly," Molly said, summoning a small throw and tossing it over Harry's shoulders. As if on cue, the new Weasley dog ran towards the couch and jumped onto it next to Harry, curling up by his face, and burying his nose in Harry's hair.

"He's allowed on the furniture?" Harry checked.

"Just try and keep him off," Molly said with amusement. "Harry, dear, make yourself at home, and try not to worry so much. It'll all work out, you know."

"What exactly will work out?" Harry asked morosely, before wrapping his arm around the shaggy mutt.

He wasn't sure if the words that emerged from Molly's mouth next were real, or a part of some weird, nostalgic dream.

"Life will work out, Harry, however it turns out. Trust me on this."

**To Be Continued...**


	38. Apprehension

**Apprehension**

It was late afternoon when Severus finally finished his Herbology reading for the day. He didn't have questions yet, but he took detailed notes, and placed the small notebook in the inner pocket of his robe, intending to review what he'd read in the evening. He shelved the books, and made his way downstairs. The pub was still closed, and Hannah was busy in the storeroom.

Severus saw Harry, sitting alone in the empty pub, reading a book of his own.

He stood in the doorway in absolute silence, looking at the dark-haired head bowed in intense concentration. For a few long moments he was almost achingly aware of every detail of Harry's appearance – from the slightly unfashionable frame of his glasses to the simple black robe, partially unbuttoned to reveal a dark red jumper that appeared to be a Mrs. Weasley creation. The black robe looked like it had seen better days – it had cat hair clinging to it, and bore scratch marks from Tripod's claws, but Harry didn't seem to mind. If anything, the young man appeared to be completely comfortable in his own skin – just the way Severus suspected he himself could never be.

Seeing Harry so near was almost painful for some strange reason. Maybe because Severus still remembered and missed what it felt like waking up next to Harry – and finding comfort in his hands. Realistically, he knew that that particular sleeping arrangement wasn't something that could have – or should have – lasted forever, but for now, he found himself secretly wishing that it had, even if it grew into something that meant more to him than it could ever mean to Harry.

Certainly, it shouldn't have meant so much to him that Harry would drop by and wait for him – but for the moment he simply stood quietly, trying to make sure that his breathing was even and regular before he dared to breach the silence.

"Potter," he said finally, keeping his voice neutral and calm. Harry lifted his head.

"Hi," Harry said with a slightly awkward smile. "I – uh, thought I'd drop by."

"Obviously," Severus said dryly. "Why?"

"Well, I thought maybe you wanted to... go out for lunch, if you haven't eaten yet?" Harry posed the question very cautiously, as if the young wizard who effortlessly threw four Aurors and the Minister for Magic out of his house earlier today, was somehow intimidated by the prospect.

The thought of venturing into the streets of Diagon Alley and facing the crowds was utterly distasteful, but Harry was staring at him from above the rim of his glasses so hopefully that Severus found himself giving a small, reluctant nod.

Harry's smile broadened. "Brilliant," he said. "There's a great place a few doors away. It's called Aunt Mary's. They have – well, you'll see. Unless you have something else in mind?"

Severus shook his head mutely. "Hannah, we're going!" Harry announced loudly, rising to his feet.

"Have a good day, both of you!" Hannah's voice replied from somewhere inside the storeroom. "We'll see you tomorrow, Severus."

They left the Leaky Cauldron together, and stepped out into Diagon Alley. The September air was chilly and crisp, and Severus found himself shivering when the gush of autumn wind struck against him. Briefly and irrationally, Severus found himself longing for the warmth of Harry's hand on his back.

Harry cast a quick glance at him, and quickly took his robe off, offering it to Severus.

"Here," Harry said quietly.

"No, thanks."

"You want the jumper instead?" Harry offered, grinning playfully.

"Heaven forbid," Severus said with absolute sincerity, and Harry chuckled quietly. For one blissful moment, Harry's fingers brushed against Severus' shoulders, as Harry wrapped the second robe around him with almost parental care.

"It looks ridiculous," Severus grumbled, but without conviction.

Harry chuckled quietly. "Ah come on now, my jumper isn't _that_ bad."

They walked the rest of the way in a companionable silence until they reached the cafe Harry had mentioned earlier. The hostess smiled at Harry warmly, gave Severus a quick, friendly nod, and placed the menus on the table.

"What would you like?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. Anything," Severus said uncomfortably, feeling very much out of place. "Something cheap."

Harry sighed and smiled ruefully. "I'll order for you then, if you don't mind."

The waitress appeared again, and Harry placed the order while Severus continued to fidget with his robe.

The diner was warm, and Harry pulled his jumper off, hanging it on the back of the chair, revealing his usual dark cotton shirt underneath. Severus himself only pulled both robes tighter around himself, still feeling as if the chill from the quick walk through the streets had settled into his bones.

Harry was watching him with growing concern.

"You aren't getting sick on me, are you?" he asked quietly.

"No."

"You're cold though," Harry observed.

"Just a little," Severus said with poorly concealed reluctance.

"You look uncomfortable," Harry said. "What's wrong? You seemed fine at High Grounds back when we visited Hogsmeade..."

Severus winced slightly. He didn't know why he was fine _then_ – and why it was so difficult to be seen in public now.

"I'm fine," Severus said sharply. "Potter, look, I appreciate this, but you don't need to go out of your way to entertain me."

"I'm not going out of my way to do anything," Harry said quickly. "I just thought that doing something outside of the house would be a welcome change of pace."

"All right," Severus said softly.

"I also thought we'd visit some shops on our way home," Harry suggested. "You've made some money lately, but you haven't bought anything."

"I don't need anything," Severus said.

"Not even at Slug and Jiggers?" Harry asked with a wry smile. "Come on, you'll probably want to try your hand at potions sometime soon. And... you can never have too many beetle eyes, or nundu claws."

Severus sighed tiredly. "Why are you doing this, Potter?"

"I just thought it would be fun," Harry said simply.

"Since when has visiting a place that smells like spoilt cabbage and staring at jars of ingredients that mean nothing to you, qualified as _fun_?"

Harry smiled ruefully. "Well... some of them mean something to me. If you must know, I still remember some random shit from school."

Severus stared at him dubiously. "Like what?"

Harry grinned. "Like to never let Neville add porcupine quills to the potion while the cauldron is still on the fire."

"I remember you didn't look too happy about acquiring that particular bit of valuable knowledge," Severus felt the need to point out.

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't happy in any of your classes, to tell you the truth. But, in retrospect, the knowledge gained is probably more valuable than the points it cost us."

"Probably?" Severus queried, feeling his lips twitching into a semi-amused smirk.

"All right, _certainly_," Harry grumbled. "Don't push it, I'm not going to start praising your teaching skills. You thrived on making the lot of us miserable..."

Severus winced at Harry's words, surprised by how much that remark stung, even after all these years.

"You think I enjoyed it?" Severus demanded bitterly. "You really think I _enjoyed_ being angry all the time, and anticipating a disaster to strike at every turn, and trying to second-guess who, or what was going to claim your life – a convicted criminal, or a servant of the Dark Lord, or a Potions accident courtesy of Neville Longbottom?" Suddenly, he found himself short of breath, upset no end by Harry's flippant, teasing statement – probably because he had come to believe that Harry had come to _understand_ him.

Across from him, Harry clutched his hands tightly and bit his lip, appearing deeply upset as well.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. "I really am. I was trying to tease you, but that was stupid. I know it was a stressful time for you, and... war doesn't bring out the best in people. I also understand that to practise Occlumency at the level that you did, you needed to... adopt a certain persona and... I know that couldn't have been enjoyable in any way. So... I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Severus said gruffly, feeling embarrassed by his own outburst.

"No, it's not," Harry said, still visibly distressed. "I..."

"Enough. Let's change the subject, please," Severus cut him off. "Slug and Jiggers it is. We can go there after lunch."

"Really?"

"Really," Severus said, enjoying the cautious smile finding its way back to Harry's lips.

"Speaking of shopping, I – uh, have something for you," Harry said, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and producing a small access key that held the Gringotts seal on it. "This is for my account, in case – well, in case you want to buy something," Harry explained.

"Excuse me?" Severus asked, staring at the small object, almost certain that he'd either misheard or misunderstood something.

"I inquired at Gringotts about setting up an independent account for you," Harry explained. "They declined, said your legal status doesn't allow it. So..."

"I see," Severus said in a barely audible voice, finding himself incredibly touched by this gesture. He still couldn't fathom anyone, even Harry, trusting him so implicitly with their personal resources. It was especially odd in the light of the fact that Severus was still not completely in his right mind at this point.

"You don't need to do that," Severus said finally. "You could just wait until I want something and ask you for it..."

"Why?" Harry said softly. "It's not like I'd ever say no to you."

More than slightly startled by Harry's statement, Severus lifted his eyes and saw that Harry was blushing profusely, shifting in his chair uncomfortably, as if he'd made a terrible blunder, and didn't know how to correct it.

"I meant..." Harry stammered self-consciously, "that..."

"You meant that you do not anticipate me having extravagant spending habits," Severus supplied calmly, eager to alleviate Harry's obvious discomfort.

Harry nodded vigorously. "Right. Exactly."

Just then the waitress reappeared, balancing a tray with two glasses of red wine and two plates, each holding what looked like steak fillets, with a side of roasted potatoes.

"What is it?" Severus asked.

"It's, uh, _filet mignon_, they do it really well here," Harry said warily, appearing to be gauging Severus' reaction and waiting to be scolded for a needlessly elaborate meal.

Deciding that they had had enough awkwardness to last them for the rest of the day, Severus simply said, "Looks very good."

For a few minutes they ate in silence. When the first sip of the red wine hit his palette, Severus couldn't help but smile in astonishment at how wonderful it tasted. Harry noticed his expression and smiled as well.

"So... how was work today?" Harry finally broached the silence.

"I'm afraid I won't have any income for a while," Severus said. "Neville was fired from his job."

Harry's mouth opened wide in shock.

"Really? Just because he was helping search Hogwarts?"

Severus frowned. "Yes, I imagine the Board members weren't impressed with him being a part of the team of vigilantes, turning the school inside out, in the attempt to clear my name." Severus shook his head disdainfully and turned his attention to the food.

"Gah," Harry spat irritably. "And he didn't say anything to me! They're always like that," Harry complained. "Both him and Hannah. Stubborn as hell. Never say anything if they're having a problem..." Harry stopped in mid-sentence and shook his head ruefully. "So what is he going to do now?"

"He's going to try and start his own business. He wants me to assist him."

"Really?" Harry said excitedly. "That's a great idea. You're going to help him then?"

"I suppose," Severus said unenthusiastically, finding it close to impossible to share Harry's optimism.

"Well, if Herbology doesn't agree with you, maybe you can help me with some research of my own. I want to pick out some books on Dark Arts and start researching the magic associated with the Dark Mark. With the Mark spreading throughout the Underground, I want to try and understand what's going on and how they're doing it. Especially since it's supposed to be theoretically impossible..."

Severus lowered his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing his discomfort.

"I don't know if I'll be able to help as much as you anticipate. I..." he struggled slightly before saying reluctantly, "I don't know that I can... function at the same level as before, Potter."

Across the table from him, Harry froze slightly, processing his statement in silence. Severus himself sat absolutely motionless, wondering if he'd said enough to earn an accusation of ingratitude, or self-pity.

Eventually, Harry spoke up.

"We'll just have to wait and see," Harry said. "You might surprise yourself."

**o-o-o-o-o**

After lunch, they went to the aforementioned shops together. Harry ended up spending a small fortune on books on Dark Arts, buying everything that Severus suggested, and placing an order for rare books that the book shop didn't have, but could order from abroad.

When they reached Slugs and Jiggers, Severus found himself simply standing in the middle of the shop, while Harry scanned the shelves, and softly made one suggestion after another. Severus waited patiently, his arms folded on his chest, barely listening to Harry, while the tension at the sight of the familiar ingredients and equipment continued to mount, until it turned into an outright panic – one that was rivalled only by his panicked state the second day of his rescue, when Harry had asked him to read for the first time. A part of him did want to pick up some things and give brewing a go, but Severus wasn't sure if he could still trust his mind, trust his eyesight, or his hands to do so. And, perhaps it was a cowardly way to conduct affairs, but he wasn't prepared to find out just how much he'd lost – not just yet.

"I can't," Severus not quite said, but breathed out in Harry's direction. "I need to get out of here."

Harry nodded quickly, and led the way out, appearing completely unconcerned by how their abrupt departure looked to the shop owner.

Once they were outside, Severus let out a deep breath and leaned against the wall of the shop, taking a minute to get his runaway emotions under control. He cast a cautious glance at Harry, scanning his face for any sign of disapproval, or irritation – but Harry simply waited for him, and ... that was it.

"Look," Harry said softly, once they began walking away from the shop, heading back to the Leaky Cauldron. "About functioning at the same level as before... I don't think _anyone_ can function on_ that level_ – like you did during the Second War. Frankly, I don't know how _you_ did it. I know you have high expectations of yourself – but... please, try not to be stressed about it. Just try to be happy."

"That sounds incredibly self-indulgent," Severus pointed out, not really in the mood to start another argument, but not knowing how else to respond to Harry's statement.

Harry grinned remorselessly. "You know what? I think that's exactly what you should do. Just indulge yourself for a very long time, and simply do whatever you feel like."

**To Be Continued...**


	39. The World Forgetting

**The World Forgetting **

"I'm trying not to be, but I guess I can't help but feel a bit disappointed," Harry confessed wearily, sitting in the empty Leaky Cauldron, with Neville across the table from him. Dropping by the Leaky Cauldron and waiting for Severus to finish his Herbology studies for the day had become his new late afternoon routine. "He used to be so passionate about Potions..."

Neville shrugged slightly. "Maybe he'll get back to Potions later. For now, he has his hands full with Herbology, which is a challenging subject, too."

"I know that," Harry said reluctantly. He wasn't sure _why_ he felt so irked and despondent about Severus avoiding Potions. Maybe because he had an unsettling impression that a very important part of Severus was somehow lost, and the man seemed in no hurry to reclaim it, and it almost physically hurt to realize that. "I just wish he'd bloody try!" Harry blurted out, almost in spite of himself.

"Look, Harry, if you had been... well, imprisoned for seven years, would you be hopping onto a broom to play Quidditch against Slytherin four months after being rescued?" Neville asked reasonably.

"I guess not," Harry admitted, "but that's different! Quidditch is a competitive sport..."

Neville smirked slightly. "Everything is a competitive sport, as far as Snape is concerned."

"That's nonsense," Harry dismissed quickly. "Who would he be competing against, when he's brewing Potions at home, all by himself?" _Except himself, the way he used to be_, Harry thought suddenly, but that thought brought little comfort with it.

Neville just shrugged again. "It's probably going to be another half an hour until Severus is done. Do you want a drink?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

"Are you hungry?"

"No. I mean yes, but I'm going to take Severus to eat at Aunt Mary's..."

"Ah. Well then. Want to visit my parents? I think they'd enjoy it. It's been a while since you saw them."

It'd been over a year, to be exact, since Harry last went up to visit Alice and Frank. He felt vaguely guilty about not visiting more often, but he simply didn't know what good visiting them did, given their memory loss... and inability to form new memories. Neville, however, seemed unperturbed by Harry's reluctant expression.

"Come on," Neville said, and led the way upstairs. Gritting his teeth, Harry followed, resolving not to make an ass of himself.

They walked up to the top floor of the Leaky Cauldron, and headed towards the door at the end of the hallway that Neville knocked on quietly.

"Come in," a cheerful young voice said, and the door opened a moment later, to reveal a large, comfortable suite, clearly expanded with use of spatial extension charms. A dark-haired girl, no older than seventeen years old, greeted them with a cheerful smile.

"This is Nicolle, the new sitter," Neville introduced them. "Nicolle, this is Harry. Are my parents up for some company?"

"I think so," Nicolle said brightly. "Come on in."

Slowly, Harry followed Neville into the spacious sitting room, where Alice and Frank were sitting across from each other. A half-assembled three-dimensional puzzle lay on the coffee table, and they both appeared to be preoccupied with it. Quietly, Harry stood behind Neville's back, casting cautious glances at Neville's parents. Even though Alice and Frank were only about six years older than Snape, they both looked much, much older than that. Frank had begun to bald, Harry noticed absently, and Alice's hair, gathered into a tight bun, was almost fully grey. He didn't fail to notice the slight trembling of Alice's hand as she hesitantly moved a piece of the puzzle to its correct place.

"Hello," Neville said. "Mind if we join you for a bit?"

Alice and Frank both turned towards him. A small, barely noticeable gleam of something like recognition flashed in Alice's eyes, but was quickly replaced by regretful confusion.

"I'm so sorry," Alice said gently. "I don't remember you. Though I think I should..."

"I know. It's okay. I'm Neville," Neville said, his tone friendly, warm, and surprisingly calm. "And this is my friend, Harry."

Frank stared at Harry without blinking.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Alice said with a cheerful smile. "Would you like a drink?"

"Uh." Harry couldn't help but feel slightly shocked by the offer, but nodded quickly. "Yes, all right. A butterbeer, if you've got one."

"I'll go check," Alice said.

She looked around, as if not being completely sure of her surroundings, and walked slowly towards the kitchen. Harry felt a lump in his throat, as he watched the woman's fragile, uncertain movements, fidning it impossible to reconcile the recent revelation about the Longbottoms' past with what he was seeing now. Was she really once a fearsome, ruthless Auror, like Alastor Moody himself? He just couldn't imagine it.

Alice opened the refrigerator, stared inside for a brief moment, and then turned around. "Yes, we have butterbeer," she announced, and looked at Neville with a kind smile. "Would you like one as well?"

"No, thank you, I can't drink yet," Neville said. "I still have some work to do. But I'll join you for a drink later tonight, if that's okay."

"That's all right," Frank said, speaking up for the first time. "What is it that you do?"

"Right now I do Herbology research," Neville said.

Frank's lips quivered slightly to form a faint, thoughtful smile. "Sounds peaceful."

Neville nodded. "It is."

Frank shifted his attention to Harry. "And you?"

"I don't work right now," Harry said. "But I used to work for the Auror Office until recently."

"Oh." Frank frowned slightly, processing the information in silence. "I think I used to know someone who worked for the Auror Office. Can't recall..." his face scrunched up in concentration, until finally, Frank simply shook his head in disgust. "Can't recall much of anything, it seems. Never mind."

Alice came up to them, and handed an opened bottle of butterbeer to Harry, who took it, and absently bought it to his mouth.

Alice barely glanced at him. Her eyes were fixed on Neville.

As if on an impulse, she lifted her hand and placed it on Neville's shoulder. For a few agonizingly long minutes they stood facing each other, with Alice studying her son's face intently, "I'm sorry," she apologized a moment later, as if surprised to see her own fingers resting on Neville's shoulder. "I probably shouldn't be doing this. It's just that... you look so familiar. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Neville reassured her quickly. "It's nice. I'm glad I look familiar."

"But I already forgot your name," Alice said with a slight sigh. "You are..."

"Neville. And this is Harry."

"Right." Alice turned to look at Harry, who was focused on sipping his butterbeer and not making an idiot of himself. Both were a difficult enough tasks, given the tight lump in his throat, and the burning in his eyes.

"We should get going, I think," Harry whispered, handing his half-emptied butterbeer bottle to Alice. "Thank you."

"Thank you for dropping by," Alice said mildly. "Will you come by again?"

"Sure," Harry said.

"Harry is really busy these days," Neville said. "But I'll be back later tonight."

"That would be nice," Alice approved instantly. "Neville, maybe it's a strange question, but how do you know us?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Neville replied, and for the first time, his voice was a bit tight. "I'll tell you this evening, all right?"

"All right," Alice murmured. "I'll look forward to it."

"Bye," Harry said quickly, and walked out of the suite as quickly as he could. Neville followed him shortly. Once outside, Harry leaned against the wall, and let out a deep breath. He'd visited Frank and Alice on a number of occasions before, and it had always been understandably difficult and awkward, but this time, the quiet, uncertain anguish of the encounter had moved him in ways it never had before. Maybe because he understood with absolute clarity that had they been less lucky, it might have been Severus, unable to gain his bearings, unable to form new memories... unable to care for himself in even the simplest ways... _might have been, but wasn't, _Harry thought with overwhelming, blissful, guilty relief.

Harry cast a cautious glance at Neville, who was silently waiting for him to pull himself together. Harry couldn't help but wonder how Neville himself was managing this sort of thing day after day.

"You get used to it," Neville said calmly, as if in response to Harry's unspoken thoughts. "You learn to be grateful for what you have left, you know? Even if it's not as much as you would like."

Finding himself at a loss for words, Harry just nodded tightly.

When they made it back downstairs, Severus was already there, waiting, his arms folded on his chest, and his face bearing a familiar bitter scowl. Harry smiled, approaching him, trying not to dwell too much on why the man who had the gift of looking so unfriendly and inaccessible was able to evoke so much warmth in him... and why he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to come up to Severus and embrace him, burying his face in Severus' bony shoulder.

If Severus was aware of Harry's odd stare, he gave no indication of it.

"Potter," Severus said calmly.

"That's me," Harry said with a tiny smile. "Shall we go?"

Severus nodded slightly and gave Neville a small nod as well.

"Longbottom, I hope I'll have something to show you tomorrow," Severus said. "It has to do with the grafting problem we discussed earlier today. I have an idea."

"Great," Neville said enthusiastically. "All right, have a good day, both of you."

**o-o-o-o-o**

"So you haven't grown tired of my company yet?" Harry asked a little teasingly, when he and Severus sat down at their usual table at Aunt Mary's.

"Not yet**,"** Severus said absently, for some reason suddenly not knowing how to make small talk; the sudden awkwardness felt almost new to him. He was still worn out by the endless string of sleepless nights, for which there seemed to be no end in sight. Still, somehow, over the last week, he had began to emerge, albeit slowly and uncertainly, from the dreary emotional numbness that had taken a hold of him about a month ago. Perhaps Harry had been right, and something as mundane as studying a new subject was helping... Or maybe, simply spending time with Harry, just like this, was doing something for Severus as well – during these simple, quiet, friendly meals spent together, Severus usually found himself more alert, more focused, and even his weariness was beginning to ebb away.

Something had changed about Harry as well – and that gradual, very subtle shift in the young man's demeanour was puzzling to Severus. With almost clinical detachment, he noted a change in Harry's facial expression, the slight dilation of the pupils, and the faint, barely noticeable head and eye movements that seemed to be directed at Severus... if Harry were interacting with someone his own age, Severus might have been led to take Harry's body language for a sign of romantic interest.

Which, of course, wasn't the case here. Severus _knew_ that he was wrong... and he even understood _why_ _exactly_ he was so dangerously close to making such an error – people with his sort of experiences tended to mistake ordinary friendly gestures for something _else_. That train of thought brought a sharp pang of regret with it, because suddenly, to his own dismay, Severus realized that he didn't _want_ to be mistaken about _this_. Desperately and bitterly, he wanted to feel fully human, fully alive, to forget the last seven years of his miserable existence and to believe that he could still elicit _normal_ feelings in _normal_ people...

He lifted his gaze, to realize that Harry was staring at him with a quizzical expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, shifting slightly in his chair. "You seem to be miles away."

"Nothing is wrong," Severus gave an abrupt response.

"Something on your mind then?" Harry probed cautiously.

"Potter," Severus mused, not quite knowing how to pose that sort of question without weirding out Harry completely. "Why are you doing _this_?" Severus' hand made an awkward, slightly jerky gesture above the table. "You realize it's rather odd for you to be spending every afternoon with me in this manner..."

For a second, Harry appeared to be at loss for words, and a strained silence ensued.

"Look... I enjoy spending time with you," Harry said finally. "I'm really glad that we're friends. I guess I should have asked you earlier, if _you_ are enjoying this... or if you'd rather not spend more time with me than necessary."

_Friendship_. The word that was gloriously comforting and touching only a few weeks ago, now echoed with loneliness and loss, and Severus shook his head quickly, casting the irrational ruminations away.

"No, Potter," he said gruffly. "It's fine. I mean - this is fine."

"Well, good," Harry said quickly. "So... how was work today?"

"Technically, it's not work _yet_," Severus pointed out. "I've completed the readings, and we've... brainstormed about possible ideas for cross-breeding some of the plants that are commonly used in healing potions...However, I doubt you're interested in that," Severus cut himself off abruptly.

"No, I'm interested," Harry said at once. "Tell me more."

"Well, you might remember from your Potions classes that Snow Angelica stems interact with Silver Usnea in a volatile manner..."

"Right," Harry said instantly. "Well, er, that's why we use the powdered Unicorn horn. It acts as a binding agent."

Severus smirked slightly. Potter could complain all he wanted about Severus' deplorable teaching skills, but even now, nine years since he'd taught Potions to Harry, the young man still remembered _something_...

"Correct," Severus said. "However, Unicorn horn has always been ridiculously expensive, and its cost had quadrupled in the last five years."

"So you and Neville are looking for a way to crossbreed Snow Angelica with Silver Usnea?" Harry guessed. "If you're successful, the new plant will contain the magical properties of both herbs, right?"

"No, no," Severus said. "What we need to do is create a graft. The procedure will involve making an incision on Snow Angelica's stem, and implanting some tissue from the Snow Usnea into that incision. Once the graft is successful, the two plants will be growing together, sharing nutrients and resources, and will... how shall I put it? Learn to tolerate each other, with each plant maintaining its unique magical properties, its unique identity."

"Oh," Harry murmured. "That's... interesting. Why hasn't it been tried so far?"

"It has been, many times. The same properties that make the two plants interact explosively in potions, have caused the graft to be rejected every single time."

"Hmm," Harry mused. "Sounds like a vicious circle... so how exactly are you planning to pull that off?"

"I'll probably need to create a custom spell that will allow the grafting to take place," Severus explained. "And after that, we'll see."

Harry nodded. The hostess approached their table, bringing two glasses of red wine. Harry took his, and lifted it slightly.

"To herbs, plants and the other green stuff?" Harry proposed with a mischievous smile. The eternal summer of Harry's green eyes flashed a wave of unexpected, gentle warmth that Severus could swear he felt with his entire being.

"Yes," Severus mused wryly, lifting his own glass in response. "To all the green stuff."

**To Be Continued...**


	40. When the Bough Breaks, Part I

**When the Bough Breaks, Part I**

The following morning Harry's time with Lily at the Burrow was cut short when Ginny returned from her Quidditch practice early. To Ginny's credit, she did her best to be friendly and cheerful, but neither her nor Harry's valiant attempts at normalcy and small talk seemed to be working this time.

She seemed tense, awkward, and the conversations ended almost as quickly as they began. Eventually, Harry stood up, gave Lily a tight parting hug, and promised to be back tomorrow, before taking his leave before the tension could become truly unbearable.

He Apparated back to Godric's Hollow and began to walk towards his house, barely noticing the cool drizzle of the autumn rain.

As he approached his home, he saw a small, lonely, but very familiar human figure at his doorstep, and ran towards her.

Marietta Edgecombe sat on his porch, curled into herself, her face buried in her knees. She had probably waited for him for a while, if the fact that she was drenched head to toe was any indication. Even the small knapsack at her feet appeared to be completely wet.

"Marietta?" Harry said softly.

Slowly, she lifted her tear-streaked face to look up. "Hey, Harry," she said with an awkward smile. "Sorry to drop in on you like this, but..."

Harry nodded quickly, extending his hand to her. Her ice-cold fingers dug into his palm.

"Come in," Harry said, leading her inside. "Mari, you're wet _and_ frozen – have you forgotten all the warming and drying spells? And why didn't you come inside?"

"I knocked on the door, but nobody was home," she said numbly, following Harry into his house.

"Well, you're in the house wards," Harry said, trying not to sound too indignant. "All the Light Brigade members are. You can come and go anytime."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Marietta murmured sheepishly. "It didn't even occur to me to try the door. I guess I'm not thinking clearly this morning..."

Quickly, he flicked his wand and summoned a warm dressing gown and a fresh towel out of the linen closet, and deposited the two items into Marietta's hand.

"Go have a hot shower and warm up," he said firmly. "I'll make you some tea. Then we'll talk. Okay?"

"I'm fine," she denied instantly, but her teeth chattered while she spoke.

"Yeah, sure you're fine, you look like a bloody Inferius. Do me a favour, and just get warm. Please?"

"All right," she said meekly, and went upstairs, her wet feet leaving muddy tracks on the floor.

She took an incredibly long time to shower, while Harry made tea, privately wondering what on earth was going on with Marietta. When she returned, a good hour later, wrapped into the enormous dressing gown, she looked much warmer, and much calmer.

"Got any healing potions?" she asked in an almost normal tone of voice. "I really can't get sick now. Do you have Pepper-Up? Do you have the Wellness Draught?"

Harry pointed her to the kitchen cupboard: she inspected his supply, before quickly proceeding to drink the necessary potions one after another. Eventually, she sat down at the kitchen table, and accepted the mug of hot tea from Harry. A moment later, Tripod emerged from somewhere and proceeded to examine Marietta with open curiosity, arching his back up and rubbing himself against her legs. She smiled and leaned forward to give the cat an absent-minded pat on his back.

"What happened?" Harry asked finally. "What's wrong?"

Marietta shook her head and smirked with undisguised loathing. "I don't even know where to begin," she said tiredly. "It's all so fucked. Last night, or rather, yesterday afternoon, everything hit the fan at St. Mungo's. I guess the Ministry is monitoring the Floo Network very closely, because my visits to your home didn't go unnoticed... so officially, they fired me for making home visits without a private practitioner's license..."

"They can't do that!" Harry snapped indignantly. "That's ridiculous!"

"The rule doesn't apply if there's a genuine medical emergency," Marietta clarified, "but to provide ongoing medical care one needs to be licensed..."

"You could have said it was just a social call..."

"Could have. Didn't," Marietta cut him off abruptly. "Their minds were made up anyway. Arguing would have been just... embarrassing."

Harry found his hand clenching into a fist. "All just because you helped Snape?" he clarified.

She nodded curtly. "My supervisor wasn't really happy about firing me, but it seemed like his hands were tied. Some pressure from the Ministry, I gather. But that wasn't really the worst of it," she continued tiredly. "When I got home, my mother already knew... we had a fight – probably the worst fight ever. She couldn't fix this for me... not this time. She was so upset... upset that I lost my job, and sent my career down the drain... but I think what upset her the most was that I wasn't even sorry about any of it... we kept fighting until probably four in the morning," Marietta said with a dejected smile. "Then, I couldn't take it anymore... and I reckoned, maybe it's best if I just leave... So I left..."

"At four in the morning?" Harry muttered incredulously. "Why didn't you come here right away?"

"Well, I got on the night bus to take me to London. I should have just gone to Diagon Alley, really, but the Leaky Cauldron doesn't open until eleven, and I didn't want to knock on Hannah's door at five in the morning – for all I knew she was still asleep. I didn't feel like loitering in Muggle London, either... so I caught the train to Godric's Hollow... and then, you weren't home, I didn't have any money left to go back, so I just reckoned I'd wait." She sniffled slightly and almost childishly. "Ok, I guess it _was_ stupid, in retrospect..."

"Why all the fuss with the Muggle buses and trains? And since when do you need the Leaky Cauldron to enter Diagon Alley - what's wrong with Apparating?" Harry demanded.

"Ah, well, here comes the best part," she said unhappily. "They confiscated my wand. I'm not allowed a wand for the next six months."

"Fuck," Harry muttered quietly. "First Neville is fired, then you..."

"Neville was fired from Hogwarts?" Marietta asked, shivering slightly. "Well, that... really sucks. I admit, I'm surprised that Granger still has her job with the Ministry."

"Surprised or disappointed?" Harry teased unhappily.

Marietta shrugged. "I really am not angry with her anymore, you know," she said quietly, but sincerely. "I doubt we'll ever become bosom buddies or anything like that, but... I can't be angry with anyone who's trying to... work through this spectacular mess we're all in right now. Anyway," she continued softly, wrapping the dressing gown tighter around herself. "I should probably go to Diagon Alley, but I'm a bit tired... so... can I crash at your place until tomorrow? Tomorrow I'll go to Gringotts, get some money out, rent a room somewhere, and start looking for another job, I suppose..."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say," Harry protested. "Why would you waste your savings on renting a place when you can stay here for as long as you need? Meanwhile, I'll talk to Percy, maybe he'll help you get your wand back... and as for another job, we'll ask around, all right? There are fifteen members in the Light Brigade, I'm sure someone will have heard of a suitable job opening somewhere."

"I don't want to impose..." Marietta started saying, but Harry waved her off impatiently. For the first time since his divorce from Ginny he felt an odd, unfamiliar, but extremely welcome sense of liberation and relief – relief that he no longer needed to justify himself to her after bringing a friend home and settling them in.

Across the table from him, Marietta looked like she was beginning to nod off. Harry smiled, walked up to her and gathered her into a friendly embrace, and to his surprise, she let him. He led her to the couch, and covered her with a quilted blanket. Tripod jumped onto the couch and curled up next to her. She wrapped her arm around the cat, and issued a single choked, soundless sob.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me, but everything is so screwed up, and my mum..."

"I know you're upset that your mum is unhappy with you," Harry said cautiously, "but... look.. you aren't fifteen anymore. We all have to cut the umbilical cord eventually. Or so I'm told, anyway."

"I know, I know," Marietta said quickly. "But... I'm still worried she'll lose her job because of me... you know how the Ministry is... if they don't like something, they go after your family..."

"It's okay," Harry said firmly, sitting on the couch next to her, and giving her shoulder a firm squeeze. "We'll work it all out. It'll get better." He ran his hand over her damp hair in a single cautious comforting motion. Marietta lifted herself on her elbow and buried her face in his lap, sniffling quietly and clinging to him as if he was her last grip on sanity.

She drifted off to sleep shortly afterwards, with Harry's hand still on her head. Suddenly, it occurred to Harry that he should have sent her to his bedroom, but by the time he realized that, Marietta was already sound asleep and he decided not to wake her.

Harry sighed and cast a glance at the clock above the Floo. Another couple of hours, he thought, and he could go to the Leaky Cauldron to pick up Severus. It was a blissfully comforting thought amidst all the madness of the wizarding world, and Harry held on to it as he drifted off to sleep, listening to Marietta's even breathing, and Tripod's almost mechanical purring.

**o-o-o-o-o**

"All right, let's see what you've got," Neville said brightly, reaching for Severus' notebook. "A brand new spell, you say?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed, feeling reasonably confident that, in spite of the sleep deprivation and constant fatigue, he was finally onto something very important. "I believe this spell will allow the tissue from the Silver Usnea to be grafted into a stem of Snow Angelica without being rejected by the rootstock..."

Neville studied the entry in Severus' notebook for a few long minutes, following the details of the newly constructed spell. Severus watched him with undivided attention, suddenly feeling like a nervous schoolchild again, presenting his first assignment to a teacher.

"Interesting," Neville said finally. "It's a remarkable spell. Definitely one of a kind."

Severus scowled at once, sensing a roundabout putdown, and beginning to realize that he may not have made as much progress as he had hoped. With a tight nod, he urged Neville to continue.

"All right, well, first things first - it's a very creative spell. I've never seen anything quite like it. It will definitely allow you to place the Silver Usnea material right into the Snow Angelica without the former being rejected. The spell will perfectly preserve the Silver Usnea organic matter, with all of its magical properties, within the rootstock indefinitely... for that matter, you probably won't even be able to _detect_ that it's there..." Neville gave a tiny, faintly apologetic smile before continuing. "Unfortunately, it won't help us where grafting is concerned, because the tissues of the two plants will not interact with each other. But that said, the spell is a stroke of genius in its own right; it seems to be a new kind of dynamic stasis field, and it's definitely worth a scientific paper of its own..."

Severus stared ahead blankly, utterly mortified by his error, and even more so, by the cheerful, encouraging smile on Neville's face, as the young man continued to talk excitedly, still gushing over the creativity of the utterly useless spell.

Severus could feel the vein on his left temple beginning to throb, and his hand involuntarily clenched into a fist. He never used to be_ like that_ – making idiotic mistakes, not managing to grasp the simplest concepts, failing at a subject that wasn't even particularly challenging... Neville's enthusiastic praise of the bloody spell seemed only to add insult to injury, giving Severus the distinct impression that the young man was simply humouring him in the attempt to soften the blow as much as possible.

"Very well," Severus said stiffly, eager to end the conversation as soon as possible. He stood up abruptly, and grabbed the notebook from Neville. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Longbottom. I believe we're done for the day. Excuse me."

He turned around and walked towards the Floo.

"Hold on – look, I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry -" Neville started saying, but Severus didn't look back. Severus' hand shook slightly – from anger or embarrassment, he couldn't tell – when he tossed a handful of Floo powder into the hearth and departed back to Harry's house.

The last thing he heard was another apology from Longbottom, which only irritated him even more.

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Severus emerged in the living room of Harry's home, he was met with the sight of Harry sound asleep in a sitting position on the couch. Marietta Edgecombe, wearing a thick dressing gown that appeared to be one of Harry's, was also asleep, her bare feet resting against Tripod's side, and her face buried in Harry's lap. Harry's hand was still entwined in the young woman's hair. Luckily, neither woke when Severus made his appearance.

The irritation he felt a minute ago during his strained exchange with Longbottom quickly gave way to a wave of helpless, debilitating rage, as Severus stared silently at the two young people, both asleep in that intimate position.

Severus _knew_ of course that it was only a matter of time until Harry began dating, and established another long-term relationship with a suitable partner, and he knew that Marietta was a lovely person... but _seeing_ her like this, occupying the exact same spot he himself used to a few months ago, in exactly the same way, was absolutely and utterly unbearable.

_Irrational, _Severus thought quickly, making a desperate attempt to gain control of his runaway emotions. Certainly, almost half a year following Ginny's rather dramatic departure, Potter was entitled to some personal happiness, but... bloody hell! Did Potter really _need_ to be _happy_ right here, in the living room?

Giving up on rationality, Severus simply gritted his teeth, and walked quietly into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky that was almost full. Gripping it tightly in his hand, Severus headed downstairs. To his surprise, Tripod jumped off the couch and followed Severus into his study.

"I doubt I'll be very good company today," Severus informed him softly. "Maybe you should leave."

Tripod had no intention of leaving. He jumped onto Severus' desk and stretched on top of a heap of parchments, kneading the rough edges of the papers with his claws before making himself fully comfortable.

"Suit yourself," Severus muttered, shutting the door quietly and sitting down at the desk. He stared at the bottle with a wry smile, before bringing it to his lips and taking a single sip. It burned his mouth and hit his empty stomach a moment later.

Drinking alone was a dreadfully depressing affair, but it still seemed preferable to pacing aimlessly like a caged animal, or growling at no-one in particular with the bitter jealousy of an old dog angry about a new addition to the family.

Severus looked around the walls of the study, feeling more confined than comforted by his surroundings. For a few brief moments, he found himself longing for a simple walk through the streets alone, instead of being stuck – _trapped_ – in Potter's home, where everything – from books on Potions and Herbology, to Marietta, sound asleep on the couch in the living room – reminded Severus of the grotesque abnormality of his own life.

Severus sighed slightly, shook his head in disgust and brought the bottle to his lips one more time, simply hoping to be left alone for the rest of the day.

**To Be Continued...**


	41. When the Bough Breaks, Part II

**When the Bough Breaks, Part II**

When Harry finally woke up, he realized that it was already early evening. He silently consulted the house wards to learn that Severus had arrived home hours ago, and isolated himself in the study. Harry sighed slightly, regretting that he'd missed the chance to take Severus out to lunch. Maybe they could do dinner instead, Harry thought, before carefully lifting Marietta's head from his lap. She coughed in her sleep and mumbled something, but didn't wake. Harry touched her forehead and frowned – it seemed she was running a fever in spite of all the healing potions she took hours earlier.

"Marietta?" Harry asked quietly, giving her shoulder a small shake. "Do you want to go sleep in a proper bed? You can have my bedroom."

She brushed his hand off, mumbled something, and Harry left her alone for the time being, heading downstairs to talk to Severus. He couldn't help but wince inwardly, for some reason feeling a bit embarrassed at the realization that Severus must have seen him and Marietta together asleep on the couch. Not that Severus would _care_ about that sort of thing, but he still felt somewhat unnerved for a reason he couldn't quite identify.

_Ridiculous_, Harry told himself and lifted his hand to knock on the door to Severus' study.

"Severus?" Harry called out.

"What do you want, Potter?" The unhappy, and slightly muffled response followed shortly.

"How are you?"

"Fine," he heard Severus shout back a moment later. "Everything's bloody _fine_, Potter. Go away."

"Can I come in?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," Severus' irritated voice responded, and Harry pondered his response. It wasn't a _no... _as far as he could tell.

"I'll take my chances," Harry said, and opened the door cautiously, before entering and making his way towards Severus. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Potter," Severus said with an impatient shrug. "Didn't you know? You're living in a magical world. Life is beautiful. Nothing is ever wrong here."

Harry sighed deeply. "You've been drinking alone."

"Your powers of observation never cease to astound me."

"Look – maybe you should stop now," Harry suggested mildly, reaching for the bottle.

"I'll replace your precious Firewhisky, Potter," Severus said with an impatient twitch of his shoulders, and brushed Harry's hand off. "I'll buy you an entire case... just... please, fuck off, and leave me alone."

"Can you tell me what happened today?" Harry probed quietly, leaning against Severus' desk. "Please?"

"Get off my desk this instant!" Severus barked, and Harry obeyed quickly.

"Sorry?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Don't be _sorry_, Potter," Severus said venomously, as it seemed Harry's quick compliance infuriated him even further. "Perhaps, _I_ should be apologizing. Technically, it's _your_ desk, after all."

"No, the desk is definitely yours," Harry said calmly. "Look -"

Severus grinned mirthlessly. "Don't you get it, Potter?" Severus asked with quiet, furious despair in his voice. "Nothing here is _mine_. Not the desk, not the bloody Firewhisky I'm drinking, not the money I'll be using to replace it... _Nothing_ is _mine_! Not even _me_! _Everything_ is – fucking – _yours_!"

A long, heavy silence ensued, with Harry standing awkwardly, once again, not knowing what to say. Realistically Harry had known for a long time that this moment would eventually come – the moment when Severus would finally blame him for everything, including the enslavement spell. In fact, Harry had been fully prepared for Severus to rage at him the moment the man opened his eyes at St. Mungo's, but having the accusations spill out now, after a few months of what had seemed like genuine friendship was a great deal more painful than Harry had ever thought it might be.

"I'm sorry it worked out that way," Harry said at last. "I'm sorry for my part in it, too. I really... don't understand how I could have made so many mistakes all at once."

"I _understand_," Severus spat angrily. "Contrary to what you may think, Potter, I _do_ understand _why_. I _understand_ why you spied on Draco Malfoy for an entire school year, effectively nullifying efforts – mine, and Dumbledore's – to de-escalate the situation and not _let_ it reach the point where I ended up having to cast an Unforgivable on the Headmaster in public. I _understand_ why the Pensieve with my memories was worth so bloody little to you that you simply left it sitting in public view, where anyone could have taken it – and they did." Severus glared at Harry pitilessly. "What I don't understand, however," Severus said, lowering his voice slightly, "is why, after all that, you've chosen to engage in _this_ ridiculous charade."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, suddenly uncertain where the almost completely one-sided conversation was headed.

"What I mean, Potter, is why you decided to... humour me," Severus explained in an incredibly brittle tone with a slight element of danger in it. "Why did you choose to play this ridiculous game, pretending that I could ever be anything other than your slave? What is the meaning of all this?" Severus' head jerked back awkwardly, as if to point to his surroundings. "Please, Potter, do tell me. I would really like to know."

"Look," Harry started saying cautiously, trying to bring some sort of rationality back into their conversation. "I realize that... this isn't much. I realize that this is unfair, and that you can't have everything that you want right now... but... it's better than nothing, right?"

"Better than nothing," Severus repeated. "Better than nothing? This..." he twitched slightly, pointing at his study, "this... illusion of freedom... this... mockery of life, is better than nothing, you say? Would you present a starving man with a smell of food, and tell him that it's better than nothing, Potter?" Severus lips twisted into a sour sneer. "You really have no idea ... no idea what you've done to me. What you, with your good intentions, and heroic actions, have turned me into." Severus hiccoughed slightly and pushed the bottle of Firewhisky aside. "I hope you're enjoying yourself, Potter. You should. Not many get a chance to have this much power over someone... especially someone who'd made them miserable for years and years... as you so kindly pointed out to me the other day."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Severus waved him off impatiently.

"What I find curious, however," Severus said, almost calmly this time, "is why you aren't enjoying yourself _more_."

Slowly, Severus lifted himself to stand up. Walking in unsteady steps, he began to approach Harry, who instinctively took a step back, and then another one, until his back was against the wall, and Severus stood right in front of him, the angry, pale face within a few inches of Harry's.

Harry gulped when Severus' breath, thick with alcohol, brushed against his cheek.

"Tell me," Severus murmured, his palms pressing against the wall, so that Harry was effectively trapped between the exposed brick and Severus' thin, tall form. "What exactly is stopping you from enjoying yourself as much as you could? What's preventing you from taking everything – absolutely everything – from me?"

"You don't know what you're saying. You're drunk," Harry muttered, shifting slightly to the side, towards the direction of the door, only to have his shoulder rub against Severus' slender arm. The brief physical contact sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

Severus smirked slightly. "Yes, Potter, I'm drunk. I am also sick, half-mad, and ugly. But I still know what I'm saying, I assure you." The enormous black eyes stared at Harry in the same intent way that always led Harry to believe that the man could read his thoughts without even trying. "What? Did you think I failed to notice that you _enjoyed_ seeing me just the way I was when you first bought me home? Helpless? Scared? Grateful? Kneeling? Eager to please?"

Harry shook his head in furious denial, but Severus moved even closer to him, until his lips were almost touching Harry's flushed cheek. The man's warm breath enveloped his ear as Severus whispered,

"Would you like that again, Potter, hmm? Would you like me to be yours in every way? Would you like to see me at your feet, with my head between your legs? Would you like me to please you and expect nothing in return? By all means, make it happen. Take everything you can from me. I certainly won't mind, and your Gryffindor friends will never know. _Nobody_ needs to know. It can be your little secret. Your little, hideous secret."

Severus' voice, silky, dangerous, coming out as a serpentine hiss, as well as the images it was painting, was sending shivers down Harry's spine. And then, ridiculously and incongruously, in spite of the inhuman misery of Severus' angry words, Harry realized that he was getting hard...

Something like bitter triumph flashed in Severus' eyes, and Harry abruptly came to his senses.

"Stop," Harry snapped, barking the order out at himself, even more so than Severus. "That's enough. I mean it. You need to stop, and... I need to leave."

For a quick, horrifying moment Harry thought that Severus was too far gone to hear him, but Severus removed his hands from the wall quickly, as if he'd been burned. Harry used the sudden window of opportunity to make his escape from the cellar without looking back.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Severus finished what was left of the Firewhisky when Harry was gone.

Tripod jumped off the desk and started weaving himself around Severus' feet with small, plaintive noises that made Severus chuckle slightly.

"Yes, yes, you've made your point. We're going to bed, all right now," he muttered, stepping over the cat, and ambling upstairs, using the walls to support himself. When he finally made it to the living room, he saw that both Marietta and Harry had already gone to bed, presumably together.

He walked to his bedroom, Tripod on his heels, and noticed that the door to Harry's bedroom was tightly shut. Severus smirked unhappily and exhausted, collapsed on his bed.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so ridiculously, shamefully drunk – and he didn't care much. But to his surprise, in spite of his intoxication and weariness, he wasn't able to fall asleep for a long time. He remained in bed for what seemed like hours, aware of nothing but some sort of terrible, stupid, idiotic loss, although he wasn't certain whether he'd lost something just now, or simply noticed a void that had always been there.

Tripod settled on his chest, and Severus sensed the feline warm breath under his chin. He lifted his hand to stroke the cat's back and was rewarded by loud, almost mechanical purring that eventually lulled him into an odd, restless state of being neither awake nor asleep.

It was still early when Severus opened finally gave up on rest and decided to get up.

Severus got up and quietly walked out of his bedroom. The door to Harry's bedroom, where Harry was undoubtedly sharing his bed with Marietta, was still tightly shut.

Slowly and almost soundlessly, Severus made his way downstairs, trying not to dwell too much on the events of last night, and not quite succeeding.

A fresh wave of nausea assaulted him, not all of it caused by the hangover. Embarrassment didn't quite begin to cover it - he got drunk on Potter's Firewhisky, then in a fit of ridiculous, jealous rage, obscenely threw himself at Potter, sent him running, and then – drunk some more... He felt humiliated, mortified, and exposed – and he had nobody else to blame other than himself. The urge to leave the house and be _alone_ continued to build, almost akin to a physical pressure in his chest, that was threatening to explode if not released.

Nothing else mattered at the moment – not the threat of capture by renegade Death Eaters, not the danger of being apprehended by the Ministry, and not even the concern that Potter might feel when discovering Severus' absence. The only thing that mattered was getting away, and experiencing at least a tiny, fleeting glimpse of something like freedom and privacy.

Moving quickly, before giving reason an opportunity to kick in and stop him, Severus walked out of the house, shutting the door behind him.

The grey mist of the rainy morning greeted him, and Severus inhaled deeply, before heading down the street, neither certain nor caring where the road was going to take him.

He walked, hearing only his footsteps, and the heavy raindrops hitting the pavement in rapid succession. The icy streams fell on him, drenching his robe in a matter of seconds, but suddenly he realized he could barely feel them, as a wave of sudden, intoxicating relief flooded him... relief at simply doing something human – walking outside, _alone_, unescorted – how long had it been? Seven years, or maybe longer – he could no longer remember.

But then, even remembering seemed less important, as he continued to walk alone through the ever shifting, all-obscuring veil of autumn rain.

**To Be Continued...**


	42. In Sickness and Health

**In Sickness and Health**

Severus walked the street until he found himself staring at the large meadow and a hill with a lone rowan tree on top of it. A narrow, barely noticeable path led to the top of the hill and Severus began to walk it, feeling the thick blades of wet grass strike against his legs.

Although the elevation wasn't significant by any means, Severus found himself out of breath after only five or so minutes of walking. He shrugged his shoulders in irritation, suddenly remembering that at one time, admittedly a long time ago, he used to be an excellent runner; now it seemed that every step he took only reminded him of how much of his life – and _him_ – had been lost.

He gritted his teeth and continued to walk without stopping or slowing down until he reached the top of the hill.

Once there, he took cover under the rowan tree and sat on the damp ground, hugging his knees, looking at the small village. From this vantage point, the houses seemed tiny as children's toys, barely real, and he simply stared at them numbly, wondering how it happened that his life had shrunk so much that one of those small things could contain it.

The rain had receded to a faint drizzle, and the sky on the horizon slowly began to turn from murky grey into a shining, almost incandescent silver glow that was slowly spreading throughout the sky. For a few minutes he simply looked at the soothing, peaceful scenery, until out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small figure in the distance. Instinctively he reached for his wand, only to recognize Potter's silhouette a moment later.

He smiled mirthlessly, wondering if he should be feeling guilty over the half an hour of solitude that now seemed stolen, rather than something he had a rightful claim to. A few long minutes later, Harry covered the distance between them and stopped a few feet of him. Severus acknowledged him with a tight nod.

"May I join you?" Harry asked.

"If you must."

Harry crouched on the ground next to him, his fingers wandering aimlessly through the the red herringbones of the fallen rowan leaves. For a brief moment, Severus involuntarily recalled the touch of those calloused fingers, sorting through his hair – and the memory brought with it so much ache, that he almost wished he could return to his former state of innocent, naive frailty, when finding comfort in Harry's hands seemed neither strange nor pitiable**. **

Wincing at the unexpected direction his thoughts took, he looked away quickly, and for a few minutes, they were quiet together, until Harry finally broke the silence.

"How are you doing?"

Severus shook his head mutely.

"I've got a hangover potion at home," Harry said. "Hermione's brew. Tastes horrible, but works wonders."

"I'm fine."

"You look really... tired," Harry said hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably in his spot.

"I _am_ tired," Severus admitted absently, having no energy left for dissembling. "I'm tired of being incompetent and useless. I'm tired of waking up not remembering where I am. I'm tired of being wrong and apologizing..."

"You don't need to..." Harry began to say, but Severus shook his head.

"Yes I do. Need to apologize that is. I'm sorry for the scene last night. Also... I'm sorry if I've disrupted your... romantic interlude."

Harry shrugged slightly. "Uh, you probably don't even care anymore at this point, now that you're sober - but... Marietta and I weren't romancing each other. She had a rough day, and she crashed on my couch... look, the bottom line is, she's a lesbian, and we didn't even sleep in the same bedroom – I went out for a walk, and then went to sleep in Lily's old room."

"Oh," Severus muttered awkwardly, both relieved by that simple, matter-of-fact explanation, and immensely irritated by how much he'd allowed something as mundane as Potter's social life – or lack of it – to affect him. "You don't need to explain yourself to me," Severus said, as indifferently as he could manage under the circumstances. "Whether or not you're dating is hardly relevant. I really... don't know what came over me, Potter. I've... never acted that way before."

Harry appeared to consider his words in silence, and then gave him a tiny smile of encouragement.

"Well, you're under a great deal of stress to begin with. And if you assumed that I was... dating – then... I think I understand your reaction."

Involuntarily, Severus found himself freezing at Harry's words. For a few brief seconds, he felt as if, all his denials aside, everything about him was completely on display, including the depth of his ridiculous infatuation. He gritted his teeth, wishing that the earth would just open and swallow him whole to spare him any further embarrassment.

Harry seemed to notice his tension, because he added quickly, "Er, that probably didn't come out right. I don't mean anything by it – other than that, even under normal circumstances, a single person can feel displaced... when his close friend – or friends become romantically involved. I know that I acted like a complete idiot when Hermione and Ron got engaged." Met with Severus' surprised gaze, Harry explained, "Don't get me wrong, I was really happy for them, but it was still difficult. I mean – the three of us had been best friends since first year, and... the engagement really drove it home for me that, from then on, they'd always come first with each other, and I'd... be on the outside, sort of." Harry grinned sheepishly, and Severus allowed himself a small smile as well, even though he fully realized that it wasn't exactly a compliment to his personality that he was reassured by Harry's confession of his own insecurities.

"I see," Severus whispered, taken aback by Harry's unexpectedly merciful interpretation of his tantrum.

"I guess rather than try to guess what you're thinking, I should ask you... about last night... were you just angry, or... did you actually mean anything more by it?" Harry asked quietly.

Barely able to credit how hard that simple question hit him, Severus cast another fleeting glance at Harry. Harry face, slightly reddened from the chill of the autumn morning, and still bearing the streaks of the recent rain, nonetheless looked unbelievably... warm - like a small pocket of summer that still lingered behind. For a quick, insane second, Severus imagined reaching out for that warmth uninvited – until his better judgement caught up with him, and he willed the thought away, deciding that the two of them had had enough awkwardness to last them a lifetime, and then some.

"I was just drunk and angry," Severus said evenly, suddenly feeling everything inside him twist with those words. "I didn't mean anything by it."

If Harry were intensely relieved by Severus' words, he gave absolutely no indication of it. Instead, Harry simply rose to his feet in silence, Severus following suit.

"Shall we go home?" Harry said. "We can go out later again, if you like, but I really should check on Marietta."

"What happened to her?" Severus asked instantly.

"She's run into some problems," Harry answered noncommittally, beginning to lead the way home, with Severus following closely behind, "but I'll let her be the one to tell you..."

"Was she attacked?" Severus demanded, the fingers of his right hand curling around the wand in his pocket.

"No, no, nothing like that," Harry said quickly. "She's safe."

"Good," Severus said.

"Yes," Harry said, without turning around. "Though speaking of being safe – it's not such a wonderful idea for you to roam around on your own, you realize that?"

Severus winced involuntarily, as the full scope of his mindless recklessness finally caught up with him.

"Yes, I do," he said reluctantly. "I suppose I got lucky that neither the Ministry officials nor the Death Eaters were watching your house this early in the morning."

Harry's shoulders twitched slightly, but he didn't slow down. "Well, some of it was luck," he said. "Last night, after our... argument, I went out for a walk. I inspected the area around the house, and found a perimeter of monitoring spells, set to go off whenever you exit the house on your own."

"Monitoring spells," Severus echoed quietly. A small chill ran down his spine.

"I couldn't trace them to the source," Harry said matter-of-factly, "though the configuration suggests Ministry work."

"Did you dismantle them, then?" Severus asked, wondering why he wasn't apprehended given the scope of the surveillance placed on him.

"No. I scrambled them. Whoever had set those spells is certain that the surveillance is still working – but it really isn't. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait until you were sober and... not quite so... temperamental," Harry said wryly.

"You identified _and_ scrambled the Ministry's surveillance spells in one night?" Severus clarified, more than slightly stunned by Harry's words. "It takes days, if not weeks, to do that."

Harry turned around to face him. Harry's lips twitched just a bit, but this time his smile faded before having a chance to fully materialize.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," he warned. "You really scared me. When I woke up and you weren't home..." Harry paused slightly, clearly battling with himself regarding what to say next. "Look. I want you to promise me you won't do it again. Go out on your own until it's safe to do so. "

Severus sighed slightly and inclined his head. Harry continued to stare at him, not backing down, clearly expecting a verbal response of some sort, and Severus said reluctantly, "Potter, in spite of my ongoing frustration with just about everyone and everything around me, I have no death wish. I will... avoid dangerous melodrama in the future."

"Good," Harry said seriously. "I know it's frustrating. But it won't last. We're working on it."

**o-o-o-o-o**

When they returned home, Harry was pleasantly surprised to see Marietta already up and about, making tea in the kitchen. She gave them both a cheerful smile, clearly appearing to be in better spirits than she was the night before. However, to Harry's surprise, Neville was there as well, looking a bit nervous, squeezing a mug of hot tea in his hands.

Neville cast a cautious glance at Severus and offered a _good morning _that sounded so anxious and shy that Harry instantly thought back to their school years.

"Sorry to barge in uninvited," Neville said, "but I really wanted to apologize."

Harry didn't know what had transpired between Neville and Severus yesterday, but from the momentary look of utter confusion on Severus' face, Harry realized that Neville's apology was an unexpected development.

"_You_ wanted to apologize?" Severus asked, his lips twisting into an ironic smirk. "Well, do go on."

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Neville smiled sheepishly. "Uh – well, I just got overexcited over the spell you'd created and... didn't notice how disappointed you were that it wasn't going to do what you had intended it for... so..."

For a long moment or two, Severus clearly enjoyed watching Neville squirm, but then, shook his head, and waved his hand dismissively.

"Longbottom, it's not necessary for you apologize, and I admit to having overreacted yesterday. Next time, don't attempt to patronize me. It rarely works out well."

"But I _wasn't_ patronizing!" Neville protested at once. "The spell is quite brilliant in its own right – do you realize how incredible it is to create a dynamic stasis field for embedding organic matter within..."

For a quick second, Severus looked irritated again, but then, took a deep breath, and said with uncharacteristic patience, "Longbottom, the level of brilliance is irrelevant when one fails to achieve the desired results."

"Well, I disagree," Neville protested stubbornly. "Just because the spell wasn't useful for grafting, it doesn't mean it can't be used for something else later on... but anyway, I guess we won't get anywhere arguing about it now, huh?"

"Probably not," Severus conceded.

"Fine. Anyway – do you still want to work together?"

Severus nodded slowly. "Yes. I am just not certain how to proceed."

"Me neither," Neville confessed. "It seemed like a great idea, but... maybe we should just focus on growing the herbs we already have. At least that will bring in _some_ income."

"All right," Severus muttered.

"Besides, I'll probably be mostly indisposed for the next few weeks," Neville added with obvious reluctance. "I doubt I'll be able to brainstorm about new ideas..."

Seeing the troubled look on Neville's face, Harry felt the need to ask, "What's going on?"

Briefly, Neville cast a wary glance in Marietta's direction, but answered the question. "It's my parents. They tend to get a bit... anxious around this time of year. I think it's the autumn... the environmental cues and such – maybe on some level they still remember what happened. Hannah and I have to spend a lot of time with them..."

"Oh," Harry muttered. The familiar chill ran down his spine at the mention of Neville's parents, and once again he wondered how Neville was managing this sort of responsibility with nobody but Hannah to help him. "What about the Calming Draught?" Harry asked, probably very predictably.

Neville shook his head listlessly. "They were fed Calming Draught for over a decade and a half at St. Mungo's on a regular basis. Over the years, they built up a resistance to it, and..." Neville shook his head again and gave Harry a faint, awkward smile. "It's all right though. Hannah and I have got to be quite good at it. I'll see you all later, okay?"

Harry opened his mouth to offer some help, but Neville stood up abruptly, setting the half-empty mug on the table, and walked out of the kitchen, taking the Floo back to the Leaky Cauldron.

**o-o-o-o-o**

With Neville's departure, the mood dampened noticeably. Harry cast a cautious glance at Severus who appeared to be absorbed in his own thoughts to the point of forgetting to ask Marietta about the trouble she had run into. Harry turned his attention to Marietta, who was sitting on the kitchen chair, leaning forward so that her elbows were resting on her knees, appearing to be lost in her thoughts as well.

"I don't remember a great deal from advanced Potions," Harry said softly, "but if someone develops a resistance to a certain draught, but then doesn't take it for a while – shouldn't the resistance decline with time, like with... well, Muggle drugs?"

Marietta shook her head mutely, and Severus answered the question. "No, Potter. Once someone has abused a certain potion for too long, it becomes ineffective permanently..."

"Oh," Harry muttered, suddenly desperately wishing he knew more about Potions. "Well, what _about_ Muggle drugs? With Alice and Frank – would something like, let's say, Valium help?"

"No," Marietta muttered, "we tried it at St. Mungo's... but, unsurprisingly, Dark Magic curses screw up one's nervous system in a very unique way – the regular Muggle's anxiolytics aren't effective in counteracting the lingering effects of the curses..."

"So... it's an unsolvable problem, then?" Harry asked, vaguely suspecting that he had no right to be irritated by either Marietta's sullenness, or Severus' withdrawn attitude, but feeling annoyed nonetheless.

"I'm not sure," Marietta said quietly, intercepting Harry's gaze. "Back at St. Mungo's, I was trying to develop a variation of the current formula of the Calming Potion, but... it's a lengthy process, and I got stuck at some point, and didn't know how to get unstuck... and none of my coworkers were interested in this sort of research, so..."

"Do you still have your notes?" Severus asked suddenly.

"They're terrible," Marietta protested. "Disorganized, chaotic... they won't make any sense to any reasonable person..."

Harry couldn't suppress a smirk when he noticed Severus lift an eyebrow in irony.

"I make no claims to being _reasonable_, but I'd like to see them," Severus said. "Come on, Miss Edgecombe – I solemnly promise not to take any points from Ravenclaw."

She stood up abruptly and headed back to the living room to retrieve her knapsack. When she returned, she placed a large, and dreadfully messy pile of notes on the kitchen table in front of Severus.

"Here," she said.

Severus was clearly attempting to be gracious, and almost succeeding at it – the expression of distaste on his face was barely noticeable, while he scanned through the coffee-stained, half-torn pages rapidly, arranging them in some sort of order that apparently made sense to him, and possibly, Marietta.

"Not bad," Severus said a few minutes later. "You've made some progress. The idea to change the base, and substitute some of the problematic ingredients, was a sound one... and now..."

"And now, with all the permutations and combinations those substitutions create, all I need to do is write out about two hundred possible potion recipes, and start testing them, one by one?" Marietta asked, the first sign of ill-temper entering her voice. "Sorry," she apologized promptly.

Severus waved his hand dismissively. "It's unnecessary to test all of them," he said. "You need to eliminate those that will be obviously unsuccessful, which is about half of them. Then, rank the rest according to probability of success. If we're clever about it, we'll only need to test about fifteen formulas, before finding the one that works, if, in fact, such a formula is possible..."

"If we do three formulas per day, we'll be done in less than a week," Marietta said excitedly. "Should we give it a go?"

"We may as well," Severus said with a small nod. "I've got the brewing equipment and most of the ingredients available – I brought them back from Spinner's End months ago."

Marietta turned to stare at Harry. "I realize this isn't exactly what I've planned but... would it really be all right if I crashed at your place for a few days while trying to test those formulas? If this works..."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "If it works, I think it will help Neville's parents a great deal. As for you staying here..." he cast a playful glance at Severus and asked in his best childish tone, "she followed me home; can we keep her?"

To Harry's delighted surprise, Severus burst into laughter that seemed more genuine and carefree than Harry had ever remembered coming from the man. Marietta snickered as well. When Severus finally calmed, he gave Marietta a firm nod of approval.

Marietta beamed at him. "You really don't mind? And you'll be helping me?"

Severus shook his head, and stood straight and tall, giving her a slightly affronted look, before responding in the most condescending way possible, "I'll be supervising you."

**To Be Continued... **


	43. Silver in the Trees

**Silver in the Trees**

Over the week that followed, Harry made himself scarce. He left home in the mornings to spend time with Lily at the Burrow, and catch up on his own reading, allowing Marietta and Severus to do their research undisturbed. Harry had a feeling that he couldn't trust himself _not_ to interrupt; it seemed to him that something was left unsaid between him and Severus, and that unfathomable _something_ continued to elude him.

Severus himself remained extremely reserved, as if compensating for his earlier outbursts. The silencing charm was back on his bedroom, presumably not to disturb Marietta while she was staying with them. And that Severus was having nightmares and getting little sleep was evident – as days went by, he looked more and more worn out. Still, he continued to work day after day, stubbornly pressing along in what seemed like one enormous, inhuman effort to prove something or bring at least one project to completion.

Harry knew better than to ask numerous questions, or pry into Severus' research needlessly, but he found himself desperately hoping that Severus would be successful in his quest for creating the new version of the calming draught – for Neville's parents' sake, and Severus' as well. One professional triumph – just one – would go a long way towards convincing Severus that he was once again "in the game".

**o-o-o-o-o**

Ron and Hermione dropped by the Burrow together on the last Friday afternoon of the month to check in and Harry could tell immediately that Ron had some information for him.

"I don't really know if this is news, exactly," Ron said. "But it's something. Percy overheard a conversation in Diggory's office. Diggory was discussing something called Vector Magic with St. Mungo's. Though when Percy entered the office, the conversation stopped rather abruptly." Ron reached into his work bag, pulling out an aged, decrepit bundle of parchments, loosely bound into something vaguely resembling a book. "I spent two weeks looking for information on Vector Magic. Most people didn't know anything about it: those who did, recoiled from me like I was asking for unicorn blood, or something. After I've looked into that, I can see why – even though it's just theory, it seems like rather dangerous stuff." Met with Harry's quizzical look, Ron elaborated, "This theory deals with – er, how do I say this – directional magic. Magic that enables someone to anchor his, ah, followers, and direct them to himself, magically, mentally, or even physically..."

"Like the magic contained in the Dark Marks?" Harry clarified, even as a small chill ran down his spine.

"Right," Ron agreed. "I reckon Diggory and his people are trying to understand how the Underground are recreating the Dark Mark, and what exactly it will mean for everyone."

"Huh." Harry frowned, trying to process the scarce yet ominous information the best he could. Another idea, seemingly preposterous at first, crossed his mind, and he voiced it at once. "Ron, Hermione – about this Vector Magic – do you suppose it applies to the magic of slave bonds as well?"

Hermione's and Ron's eyes opened wide, as clearly neither of them had considered that possibility until Harry had mentioned it.

"All right," Harry said, "let's read up on this and try to figure it out. I imagine you made a copy of the book?" Hermione actually smiled at that. "Why did I even need to ask. Well, let's read and get together to discuss it in a few weeks' time, hmm?"

"Sure," Hermione said. "Harry, what about Severus, are you going to show him the book? Ask for his input? He probably still knows more about the Dark Arts than all three of us put together."

Harry shrugged a bit. "I don't know. I mean, you're right, but he's been a bit edgy lately – like he expects too much of himself, and... well, you understand."

"I understand," Hermione mused, nodding. "Well, you definitely don't want to pressure him to produce brilliant ideas at the drop of the hat. On the other hand..." A small mischievous glint sparked in her eye, causing Harry to smirk, as he caught on at once, concluding Hermione's thought,

"I guess it won't hurt to leave a copy of the book lying around where he can see it."

**o-o-o-o-o**

When Harry arrived home, he could tell that something significant (of the good sort) had finally occurred, judging by the triumphant expressions on Marietta's and Severus' faces. For a few minutes Marietta talked, explaining that they were successful in brewing the modified formula of the Calming draught. Although happy for their success, Harry found himself barely listening, as he continued to watch Severus with growing concern. Severus seemed to be worn out beyond all measure and almost ready to fall asleep on his feet. He looked thinner and paler, the two severe lines crossing his forehead seemed deeper, as if he'd exhausted the last of his reserves in his quest for success, and had nothing but pure will power holding him up.

"Congratulations," Harry said, desperately trying not to make a fuss over Severus' obvious weariness.

"Thank you," Severus said, his lips twisting into a wry and very satisfied smirk. "By the way, the modification algorithm that we've developed can also be applied to brewing new versions of other potions. We managed to develop and brew the new formula of Dreamless Sleep as well."

Harry nodded, relieved that the string of sleepless nights was coming to an end for Severus, at least for the time being. Harry knew enough about potions to realize that Dreamless Sleep couldn't be a permanent solution, but for now he was glad even for a temporary fix. Still, Harry couldn't help but ache for Severus and the years he'd already spent using potions to hold himself together and keep going, until those remedies lost their effectiveness for him.

Harry shook his head, snapping out of his morose ruminations, and managing a small smile. "Well," Harry said, addressing Marietta and Severus both, "shall we deliver the potion to the Longbottoms?"

But Marietta shook her head and bowed out of the visit to the Longbottoms. She was going to stay with Luna, Mareitta explained, as the Lovegoods had offered her a job with the Quibbler. Harry was about to suggest that she stay with them a bit longer, but by her small and sligtly dreamy smile he dared a guess that the new arrangement wasn't all about work, and the offer never left his lips. Marietta hugged him before leaving, and Harry hugged back, whispering a quiet thanks without elaborating what for.

After Marietta's departure, Harry and Severus took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. When Severus explained the findings to Hannah and Neville, and presented them with the vials, Harry could swear that he had never seen either of them so relieved. Severus lifted his hand to stop the stream of grateful exclamations in mid-sentence.

"How have you been?" he asked. "How's the greenhouse?"

"Fine," Neville said. "Though some of the plants have begun to grow sick, and I'm not quite sure what the problem is. But it's all right, I'll sort it out later."

"I'll go take a look at them now, if you don't mind," Severus said, and before Hannah could stop him, headed upstairs.

"Can I join you?" Harry asked. Choosing to take the indifferent shrug of Severus' shoulders as a whole-hearted permission, he followed along, never taking his eyes off Severus' narrow back that twitched with every step he took.

When they reached the rooftop garden, Harry saw instantly that Neville had underestimated the extent of the problem. Most of the plants were fine, but the Snow Angelica looked like it wasn't doing well at all – the stems had grown sickly yellow with a brown tinge; and the leaves looked almost grey.

"Hmm," Severus muttered, taking a step towards the diseased plants.

"Going to cast diagnostic spells?" Harry asked.

Severus snorted under his breath, shook his head, tore off one of the yellowed leaves and bit into it, holding it on his tongue for a moment, as if trying to discern the taste. Harry watched him with curiosity, and somehow managed to shake off the sudden and rather out-of-place thought about how attractive those thin lips looked, even when twisted into a clearly displeased grimace.

Severus cringed, spat out the fragment of the leaf and got down on his knees in front of the raised tank with the earth. He stared at the plants briefly, as if thinking something over, then took off his robe, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. For a few long moments, Harry simply stared, finding the sight of the sinewy, wiry arms and pointy elbows oddly endearing, and combating the nearly irresistible urge to reach out and touch.

Severus leaned forward and sank his hand into the moist, freshly upturned soil, obviously looking for something, and seeming too focused to notice Harry's staring. A moment later, Severus pulled out his hand from the soil, holding a small clump of dirt in his palm. He sniffed it, shook his head again, and threw the dirt back.

"The soil isn't acidic enough," Severus said finally. "My guess is that Longbottom has mistakenly combined two fertilizing potions that he shouldn't have." Severus sighed tiredly, and sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden flower tank.

"He's probably preoccupied with caring for his parents," Harry pointed out, lowering himself to sit down next to Severus. "It's easy to make mistakes when you're stressed."

"I realize that, Potter." For a few minutes they sat together in a companionable silence, Severus clearly thinking something over. "I'm thinking of staying at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days," Severus said suddenly, startling Harry. "I'll offer the Longbottoms a hand here, before everything goes to the dogs."

"That's a good idea," Harry approved quickly, kicking himself that he didn't think of that sooner. "Maybe I'll do the same."

Severus paused slightly before saying neutrally, "There can be such a thing as too much help."

Harry processed the odd statement in silence. "You want to get away?" Harry clarified. "You can do that, sure. Or – if you prefer the house, I'll go stay at the Burrow for a few days..." He hoped that his voice didn't betray the pang of disappointment at Severus' statement, and more than that, he didn't know what to make of Severus not quite meeting his eyes. "Um," Harry dared to probe very cautiously, "I dread to ask – but did I do something wrong again?"

Severus gave him a firm shake of the head, his face completely blank.

"Then... why?"

"I just thought you'd want some space this week," Severus said calmly, without elaborating any further.

"This week?" Harry repeated automatically, trying to understand what was so special about this week, until finally something clicked for him, _the end of October_. "Oh. Anniversary of my parents' death you mean?" Harry clarified.

A small, tight nod followed, with Severus staring away. Harry frowned, trying to understand whether Severus was simply trying to give him space, as he'd said, or whether there was something more to the statement... was it that Severus was still feeling guilty over the one mistake that had already shaped the course of his life? Harry paused, taking the time to select his words, wanting to reassure Severus without making the conversation harder than it absolutely needed to be.

"No, I don't need space this week," Harry said neutrally. "Not from you, anyway. It'll be good to have a friend around."

Something softened in Severus' expression. He let out a mild, slightly confused "oh", looking oddly disarmed by Harry's statement.

"Can you tell me about my parents?" Harry asked suddenly, surprising himself. Severus appeared to be startled as well.

"I doubt I'm the right person to ask," Severus said, seeming to be ill at ease..

"Well... you're just about the only person to ask," Harry pointed out. "Though if you don't want to – that's fine..."

"Hmm. Well. What... do you want to know?"

"Did you have feelings for my mum?" Harry shocked himself by asking, and braced himself for verbal slaughter.

Severus stared ahead numbly for a long minute, then shrugged. "You aren't going to like my answer, Potter." When Harry did nothing to discouraged him from speaking, he paused, and then added. "The truth is that I don't remember."

"How's that?"

Severus twitched, rather than shrugged this time. "The intensity of emotions fades with time. Old associations are erased, new ones form..." his voice trailed off, as if he was struggling to say something, but didn't quite know how to do that.

"Okay," Harry said uncertainly, and decided to push his luck a bit further, albeit in a slightly different direction. "Will you tell me about your Patronus?"

"The one I can't generate anymore?" Severus said dryly. "Well. Yes. We – your mother and I – were friendly back then, although we started drifting apart to some extent, because of my interest in Dark Arts... and because of the company I kept." Harry nodded slightly, listening attentively. "We had a misadventure in the Forbidden Forest. A small deer – a doe, was injured. She got caught herself in a magical leg-trap." Severus smiled and added with a faint trace of nostalgic bemusement, "Your mother and I - we spent the day caring for the doe together. " Severus' pointy shoulders shifted slightly, and then he added with a bit of hesitation, "I was quite adept at Dark Arts spells for my age. I managed to use some of them to free the animal from the trap and induce it to drink the healing potion we'd... acquired."

"You mean, pilfered?" Harry asked in amusement, entertained in spite of himself by the mental image of teenage Snape stealing something.

"Acquired," Severus repeated stubbornly. "Well, to cut the long story short, it worked. The doe recovered and ran off. At the end of the day, both still immensely excited by the outcome, we decided to try the Patronus charm together. We were successful – and what's more, our Patroni ended up looking identical."

"Oh," Harry mused, pausing to consider that piece of information. "I always assumed that your Patronus represented her."

Severus seemed even more ill at ease than before. "I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear."

"No," Harry said quickly. "It's... it's really neat."

"Neat," Severus echoed, as if trying to reconcile the word with the story he'd just told, and Harry added quickly,

"Well.. that your best memory has to do with doing something like that. Saving someone, or helping someone. I think that's really... special."

Severus nodded again, and stretched out his legs, still leaning his back against the wooden side of the raised flower bed.

"I regret to say that that.. this story has ceased to have any meaning to me, Potter."

"How so?" Harry asked softly, not really expecting an answer this time.

His words heavy with fatigue, Severus elaborated in a quiet voice that seemed distant and indifferent, in the contrast to his response.

"After the Death Eaters who captured me had reviewed my Pensieve, they found the story of my attachment to the Muggle-born girl who'd withdrawn her offer of friendship from me very... entertaining. They wanted to know more. I lost count of how many times I had re-told that bloody story of the Doe Patronus for their amusement, simply to avoid another round of Cruciatus – or..." Severus shrugged listlessly. "Even the most sacred things tend to become meaningless when the man has nothing left to protect but his own hide – what's left of it, at any rate."

Harry sniffed slightly, feeling the familiar pang of guilt about likely the most idiotic thing he'd ever done in his life – leaving the Pensieve with Severus' memories to sit in Dumbledore's office after viewing them . Without looking at him, Severus simply shook his head slightly, and Harry suppressed the familiar urge to apologize.

"Well, I think she'll be back soon. The Doe Patronus, I mean," Harry said, wondering if he sounded as helpless as he felt at the moment. "You're already helping others – and... it makes you happy, doesn't it?" He cringed slightly at how naive his own words came out, but Severus didn't seem offended by the inane platitudes.

"Happy," Severus mused. "Yes, I suppose so."

"You're tired, aren't you?" Harry asked quietly, vaguely suspecting that Severus had just divulged things that he probably wouldn't have, if not for the mental and physical exhaustion that had left him either unable or unwilling to censor himself.

Severus mutely nodded in response.

"Well," Harry said, "four months without proper sleep would do anyone in. But now that you have the Dreamless Sleep potion again, maybe you should do that. Just go easy on yourself and rest. You've already achieved a great deal in the space of one week..."

"I should help the Longbottoms," Severus repeated stubbornly, but Harry could tell that his resolve was beginning to wane.

"No. Just tell Neville what his mistake is, and he'll take it from there. I'll drop in every day to help out, too," Harry insisted. "Come on."

Harry stood up, extending his hand to Severus. He was reasonably certain that Severus would ignore his gesture like he had done many times in the past, but this time, only after a moment's hesitation, Severus' hand reached for his, and their fingers laced together. Harry barely had the time to take in how cold Severus' fingers were, and how much he'd come to miss that touch over the last few months, when in one abrupt motion, Severus pulled himself up to his feet, coming to stand face to face with Harry. Their bodies mere inches away from each other, taken aback by the sudden nearness, and nearly intoxicated by it, Harry stood still, squeezing Severus' hand in his and not wanting to do anything to disrupt the fragile moment.

Severus' eyes were shut, and his lips moved slightly, as if in silent invitation of some sort – and for a brief moment, it occurred to Harry that their faces were in a perfect position for a kiss. Harry caught himself leaning forward instinctively, but what was still left of his common sense kicked in and he stopped himself just in time, before he had the chance to do something unthinkably stupid.

Severus, for his part, seemed to sense that something had passed between them. He pulled his hand out of Harry's grip, opened his eyes and took a step back, before bending down to pick up his robe.

"You've convinced me, Mr. Potter," Severus said in a completely mundane voice, as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had nearly taken place. "Let's go home, shall we?"

**o-o-o-o-o**

Strange. That was the only word that Severus could come up with, as he was getting ready for bed. He'd noticed – or thought he did – Harry making a move to reach out for him, and pulling back as if catching himself at the last moment. He didn't know what to make of it, and eventually decided it probably didn't matter, even while finding himself wishing that it did.

He reached for the bedside table to pick up the vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. For a few seconds he held the vial in his hand, allowing himself a moment of silent celebration before drinking the potion, and stretching to lie on his back. His eyes were shut when he heard the floor tiles squeak, and a second later, the bed inclined slightly as Tripod jumped on, walked back and forth, and eventually decided to settle on Severus' chest. As the cat tucked its face under Severus' chin, he lifted his hand and petted the animal. His last thought was a vague, bittersweet longing for a memory of Harry falling asleep next to him, but he drifted off into a dreamless void, before that recollection could materialize into anything else.

**To Be Continued...**


	44. Realizations

**Realizations**

Over the weeks that followed, Severus wasn't doing much. Harry had fully expected him to continue pursuing potions studies, or at the very least, to go to work at the Leaky Cauldron. But Severus seemed uninterested in any of that. Once he began taking the Dreamless Sleep potion, Severus spent enormous stretches of time simply sleeping, sometimes even falling asleep on the couch or in the armchair in the living room.

Harry smiled ruefully whenever that happened: a part of him suspected that Severus simply didn't want to fall asleep alone. Something ached inside at that thought, and Harry didn't quite know what – if anything – he was supposed to be doing about that. As days passed, he found himself watching Severus with growing concern; probably because Severus' eyelids looked unnaturally still as he slept.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Harry entered the living room to see Severus standing in front of the window, staring ahead as vacantly and blankly as he had the day Harry had first brought him home.

"Severus? Are you all right?" Harry asked softly, taking a step forward.

Severus gave him a small silent nod.

"Getting enough sleep?" Harry asked as neutrally as he could manage, even though the feeling of something being slightly off continued to grow.

"Mhmm." Severus murmured. He continued to stare at something behind the window, his eyes squinting and shifting slightly as if following a moving target. "It's different, you know," Severus said suddenly, without turning to Harry. "Sleeping while on this potion."

"Different, how?" Harry asked.

"When you sleep the natural way, there's still some... awareness of yourself. On some level. Some type of cognitive activity going on. With Dreamless Sleep, it is as if you cease to exist for the duration of the night."

"That doesn't sound very restful," Harry said softly. "As a matter of fact, it sounds downright horrible."

Severus' fingers clutched at the window-sill, his knuckles going white. His forehead pressed against the glass, and his face became obscured by the long black hair.

"I don't mind it," Severus said in an unnaturally calm and measured voice that made a small chill run down Harry's spine.

Harry winced and swallowed hard, not quite knowing what to say. Slowly, he approached Severus and followed the direction of his gaze, to look out of the window and see a small rook hopping back and forth in the backyard, from time to time stopping to search for something amidst the damp cover of fallen leaves.

"Just look at him," Harry said, trying to keep his tone light.

"What about him?"

"He reminds me of you," Harry said. When no reaction followed from Severus, Harry dared to tease just a bit. "I say the resemblance is striking. Just look at his nose!"

This elicited a small, dry chuckle from Severus.

"I suppose that's where the resemblance ends," Severus said mildly. "Corvids are said to go mad when caged. Since I've suffered no such fate, I reckon I need less freedom than they do."

"This isn't going well," Harry commented plaintively, not sure if he were more discouraged by how defeated Severus sounded, or by yet another reminder that he'd spent several months trying to work things out and restore Severus' freedom, without any success.

"The small talk? May I recommend that you skip it, and get to the point," Severus said. "If the book you left lying around so conspiciously is any indication, you wanted to talk about vector magic. Correct?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "You're familiar with it?"

"Yes."

"How well?"

Severus barely glanced at him. "Quite well."

"Slave bonds and Dark Marks employ the same kind of magic?" Harry asked, wanting to check the accuracy of his hunch.

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "Think of the magic of slave bonds and the magic of the Dark Marks as deep ocean currents. The currents might be going in different directions, some may be stronger than others, but ultimately their nature is the same, and..." Severus' voice broke slightly, and he fell silent without completing his thought.

"Hmm?" Harry turned towards Severus, who looked like a tightly stretched string ready to snap any moment. His face seemed drained of all colour. "Severus?" Harry probed, forgetting everything other than Severus' immediate well-being. "Are you all right?"

It took Severus a while to answer.

"Yes," he whispered at long last. "I just realized something, that's all."

**o-o-o-o-o**

_At some point, Severus stopped struggling. He simply stood almost perfectly still and stared down, his eyes fixed on the metal clamps pinning his wrists down to a table surface. It'd been a long time since he'd hurled insults at his captors, or pleaded for mercy, or even attempted to anticipate their next move. All he could do was react. And he did, flinching when the large hand rested on the nape of his neck._

"Severus," the familiar voice of one of his captors taunted him. "You're a very lucky man. You realize  
that, don't you?"

Something dropped in his stomach. He froze, not daring to make a single sound, and not daring to even as much as cast a small sideways glance at Macnair.

Macnair continued to talk.

"Have you given any thought as to why you're still alive? Why you still have all your limbs and senses? Why you're still sane?" Severus flinched again when Macnair's hand released the back of his neck and gathered a fistful of his hair instead, yanking his head backwards. "You might be tempted to think it's because of how eagerly you debase yourself and how effortlessly you comply with your own degradation to stay alive. Let me assure you that the entertainment value you provide is minimal."

Macnnair's grip on his hair tightened for a brief moment before letting go. Severus' head dropped forward, and he stared down again, feeling sickened by the sight of his own hands trapped and immobilized.

"You are still alive, and sane, because we want something from you," Macnair informed him matter-of-factly. "Something you know."

"I don't know anything anymore," Severus whispered. "It's been a long time since the war... any information I still have is useless to you by now."

"We don't need _**information**__," Nott clarified. "We need __**knowledge**__. Your knowledge of the Dark Arts, which are varied, ever-changing, and eternal." Severus shuddered as Nott's hand returned and rested on his bloodied back. Fiery agony blossomed and spread outwards from the point where the heel of his captor's hand touched the exposed flesh. "We'd like you to share the knowledge you've so lovingly and painstakingly accumulated over the years. Since you've betrayed us, it's only fair that you remedy the harm done and aid us in this ongoing war against the Ministry. Don't you agree?"_

Severus stared down in silence. He saw a serrated knife, that Macnair was now wielding, begin to make its way towards his immobilized hands.

"Your mental discipline is failing," Nott continued. "You aren't able to Occlude effectively. Your lies are becoming more transparent. If you would like to make one last futile attempt at defiance and try to keep us out of your mind, be my guest. It'll be even more interesting this way." Turning to Macnair, he added, as if as an afterthought, "cut off his fingers."

With distant, almost detached fascination Severus stared down, watching that knife move, the tip of it position itself between his index finger and his thumb. For a second he thought it probably didn't matter – it wasn't as if he'd ever hold a wand, or a quill, or a stirring rod ... then, suddenly and unexpectedly, panic assaulted, its sticky tendrils crawling from the back of his head along his spine, and twisting his gut into a knot. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

"Wait, wait," Nott said suddenly, pushing Macnair's hand away. "Severus, have you made up your mind? Will you help us..?"

"Take it," Severus heard himself say then. "Take it all." 

**o-o-o-o-o**

Severus wasn't sure how long he stood motionless, simply staring at his own hands, his mind trying to find its way back to reality through the debris of resurfaced memories. It must have been a while, because when Harry's voice finally registered with him, it was troubled to the point of being frantic.

"Severus? Are you all right?" Harry asked. "Severus!"

"Fine," he managed to say. "I'm fine, of course. Why?"

"You started saying something. Then you sort of... spaced out."

"Oh," Severus muttered. "Yes. Where were we?"

"Vector magic," Harry reminded him, giving him a long, concerned look. "Then you said you remembered something."

"Right." An involuntary shiver ran down his spine, and he froze, making an attempt to supress it. "Well, I was trying to say that vector magic isn't a branch of knowledge that many people are familiar with. And I just realized that..."

Severus' voice trailed off as he found he couldn't continue. He twitched as the the familiar sticky tendrils of terror mingled with shame reached for his throat, making his breathing constrict.

"That the Underground learned vector magic from you," Harry said softly. "They got that knowledge out of you after they'd captured you. That's how they are recreating the Dark Marks now. Yes?"

Severus nodded and turned his head slightly to look at Harry. Oddly, the few feet separating them seemed an unconquerable distance, and the recollections of his captivity now appeared more vivid and palpable than Harry's presence. Severus could swear he still felt the touch of his captor's hand on his back, but somehow he wasn't entirely sure that, if he reached out for Harry, he'd find a real person there.

Severus stilled and forced a slow breath out. He suspected he was on the verge of a breakdown of some sort, and he didn't dare make a single move or let out a single sound, for the fear that something inside would crumble and fall apart irretrievably if he didn't keep himself together. His tension must have been noticed because Harry offered a small smile and said,

"It'll be all right, you know."

The words that used to be reassuring brought a sharp pang of lonely ache with them. It hurt to hear Harry say _that_ – and nothing _more_. Not that Severus wanted to hear anything else at this point – he doubted that he could handle either questions about how much he'd allowed his captors to take from his mind, or why it had taken him so long to realize it.

He wondered briefly what it would feel like to turn back the clock, to abandon all shame and fall to his knees before Potter the way he used to months ago. He wondered if feeling something other than the maddening, grim loneliness of being trapped in his own memories would be worth that sort of concession. For the moment, he no longer knew.

He only knew that he couldn't stop staring at Harry, with every second noting different details of his appearance – the old wool sweater with dog hair stuck to it, the outline of his shoulders that gave the impression of awkward uncertaintly, the way his chest was rising and falling with every breath... Everything about Harry rang with a simple, human warmth that felt like something long-lost, but entirely irresistible and intoxicating once remembered.

Stuck in the same spot, Severus was startled to realize that Harry was staring back at him, appearing to be just as tense and flushed. Harry's lips moved as if he were about to say something, but no sound came.

"Potter," Severus finally managed to say, hoping that his voice didn't break as he spoke. "You should go."

Harry winced slightly at his words, but didn't back down.

"You really want me to leave?" Harry checked. His words, although calm, seemed to carry the slighest note of hurt – or disappointment – it was hard to be sure.

Severus was about to take a step back, but found himself unable to move. The tension in the pit of his stomach continued to mount, twisting, spreading, transforming into a tightly wound coil of heat and sweet ache that he'd almost failed to recognize for what it was.

Harry looked at him quizzically and nearly plaintively. Severus held his gaze, suddenly finding that the need to equivocate or hide was gone.

"No," he confessed with a small shake of his head. "Not really."

Harry nodded slightly and took a step towards him. Severus followed suit, until they stood face to face, inches away from each other. Severus stilled as Harry's breath, hot and dry, brushed against his parted lips.

For a long second nothing happened; only a faint shadow of doubt crossed Harry's face. Severus stared at Harry, who had the look of a man about to ask something incredibly important and incredibly stupid.

"Don't you dare, Potter," Severus warned. His fingers clutched around Harry's wrist.

If his grip was too painful, Harry didn't seem to mind, or even notice.

All hesitation gone from his features, Harry smiled, warpped his free arm around Severus and leaned in to kiss him.

**To be continued...**


	45. Escaping the Shadows

**Escaping the Shadows **

They continued to stand in one spot and kiss for Merlin-knows-how-long, at first cautiously tasting each other's lips, and then diving into the kiss in earnest. There was a thick, heavy-bodied but not sugary sweetness to Harry's mouth, and Severus found it to be completely and utterly intoxicating.

He'd forgotten that anything could _taste_ – and _feel_ – so good. And it did feel good: from the tip of his tongue, to somewhere deep in his belly, and everywhere in between, as if the invisible lines connecting the dots of his pleasure centers suddenly came to life.

It wasn't until he heard a displeased groan that Severus realized he was still holding Harry's wrist. He released it, and Harry's hand moved instantly to Severus' shoulders, ran down along his spine and finally rested on the small of his back.

Harry mumbled something against his lips that Severus didn't catch, nor did he need to. In his current state, Harry seemed to be better at acting than talking: he had the presence of mind to navigate the two of them towards the couch before they ended up on the floor right where they stood.

They sat down facing each other and kissed again, although this time the kiss didn't last as long, because Harry appeared to be making a conscious attempt to slow things down, or collect his thoughts.

"I think we should talk..." he offered cautiously, resting his hand on Severus' shoulder.

"Absolutely not," Severus said firmly, leaning toward Harry until their mouths almost touched again."Fuck first, talk later."

Harry laughed.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Soon enough, Harry was lying on his back with Severus sitting on top of him, straddling his hips, shifting position every second, so that the friction between them was just right.

"Not too heavy on you?" Severus barely had the presence of mind to check. Panting, Harry shook his head vigorously, threw his arms around Severus and drew him into another kiss.

The sweet, heavy knot of his arousal continued to twist and grow with every movement and every thrust, and Severus groaned into Harry's mouth. A moment later, he felt Harry's fingers make their way down to his waist and fumble awkwardly with his belt in an attempt to remove it.

Elated and lightheaded, Severus was scarcely aware of himself sliding his trousers down and thrusting forward.

"There you are," Harry whispered, sounding out of breath, and his calloused palm closed around Severus' length.

Severus gasped quietly, as pleasure coursed through him, causing him to sit up straight. He found himself almost unable to stand it, but still wanting _more _of that astonishing, nearly inhuman delight that obliterated everything else in its wake. For the life of him – he hadn't expected _this_ to feel this good, and come so easily to him, the waves of pure physical pleasure pushing out any lingering fears, recollections of pain, and memories of shame.

He hadn't expected to ever be able to make such a brilliant escape from all of that – but somehow he did. There were no more concerns, no worries, no fears, no memories – for that matter, no thoughts of any kind. Then there was nothing but movement, sharp, sweet thrusts into that welcoming hand, irregular breaths, and intermittent kisses that Harry continued to initiate every so often.

Eventually Severus sensed the hot droplets of Harry's release land on the front of his thighs, and felt Harry's hand tighten around his member, giving it one last firm squeeze.

He barely kept himself from crying out, but couldn't keep himself from collapsing on top of Harry, feeling exhausted as if he'd just finished running a marathon.

A part of him had expected some sort of fallout from this rushed and hasty make-out session – a type of buyer's remorse, or at least the feeling of awkwardness that inevitably followed an ill-advised sexual interlude. There should have been something of the sort – but there was nothing but the warm, peaceful afterglow that didn't seem to even begin to dissipate. For a while, they simply rested, Severus lying on top, his nose buried in Harry's sweater.

Harry shifted underneath him, sighed contentedly, and slid his hands under Severus' shirt. Severus stilled involuntarily when Harry's calloused fingers ran along his back, connecting with and moving over the many indentations on his skin.

His momentary freeze-up didn't escape Harry's attention.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled sleepily. "Do they still hurt?"

"No," he muttered wearily. "They don't. Nothing hurts anymore."

Harry's arms tightened around him for a brief moment. Their bodies pressed close together; Severus could feel Harry's heartbeat.

"Want to go to bed?" Harry asked, yawning.

"Yes."

"Can I come to bed with you?"

Severus turned his face to rub his cheek against Harry's worn-out sweater and face the window. It was already dark, although it was still fairly early in the evening. They hadn't eaten yet, but he wasn't hungry. Not for food, at any rate, he added mentally, and smiled.

"Fine."

"We should probably talk, too," Harry expressed the former sentiment cautiously.

Severus lifted himself up on an elbow and grinned.

"Potter. We fucked. We're going to do so again in less than five minutes. There's nothing to talk about."

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

It was still dark when Severus woke up the following morning. Settled against his back, Harry was still asleep, snoring peacefully, his right arm wrapped around Severus, and his face tucked between Severus' shoulder-blades.

Severus moved slightly to readjust his position, and Harry shifted with him, slightly tightening the embrace.

Severus smiled. Over the first few months following his rescue, he'd gotten used to falling asleep next to Potter now and then, and even waking up next to him, but he'd also gotten used to feeling mildly uncertain about it – as if he were somehow overstepping the boundary of what was appropriate and welcome.

No longer. Nothing felt odd or out of place anymore, not in the slightest. Somehow, everything fit. Harry's breath was moist and warm between his shoulder-blades. Harry's palm rested against Severus' chest, as if to contain his heartbeat. Harry's body was curled to conform to the outline of Severus' back. Harry and he – just fit.

Severus reached back with his hand to stroke Harry's thigh. Harry, it seemed, was a light sleeper. He stirred right away, sniffled, and his stubbled chin rubbed against Severus' back.

"Morning," Harry muttered.

"Mmhm."

"It's early."

"Very," Severus confirmed. "I wouldn't mind sleeping some more."

"Did you at least sleep well?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Severus replied, still running his fingers over Harry's thigh.

"Why surprisingly?" Harry asked at once, concerned.

"Because I was so preoccupied by last night's activities that I forgot to take the Dreamless Sleep potion," Severus explained.

"Oh. But... Hey!" Not turning, Severus couldn't see Harry's face, but could hear a smile in his voice. "So just sleeping with me does the trick?"

"Yes," Severus said dryly. "You're the ultimate cure for all my problems. Don't let it go to your head."

Harry shifted again, and nudged Severus' shoulder, urging him to turn around. Just as soon as he did Harry captured his mouth in a long kiss, seeming not to mind the roughness of the morning breath, or the stubble on Severus' chin.

"Love you," Harry mumbled against his lips. "Really, really love you." Before Severus had a chance to respond, they were kissing again.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

They spent all morning and afternoon doing nothing but that – staying in bed, kissing, making out like two sex-starved teenagers without a care in the world, and falling asleep, only to wake up a few hours later, and start over. Severus lost track of how many times he drifted off to the sensation of Harry's fingers sorting through his hair, or massaging his shoulders, and he lost track of how many times he woke up to being kissed. He was mildly surprised by the tenderness that seemed almost excessive at times, but he no longer knew whether this was just Harry's way, or whether all people did that sort of thing. Not that it mattered – for the life of him, he couldn't recall ever feeling so peaceful and welcome anywhere.

Eventually, they made it out into the kitchen, and Severus sat down, while Harry, still wearing nothing but shorts and a tee-shirt, searched the cupboards for food. A small shiver ran down his spine when Severus realized he was sitting in the same chair that he'd occupied on his first night here, in this house. He remembered that first night as clearly as if it were yesterday, but he could barely remember what it was like to be so intimidated and disoriented. And he could barely credit the difference in his life between then and now.

Harry seemed to sense something, because he turned around and gave him a small smile.

"Knut for your thoughts."

"Just thinking," Severus whispered softly. "You were right about something. Life has a way of working itself out."

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Harry departed to visit Lily in the early evening,and came back a few hours later. The moment he entered the living room, he could tell that something had changed in the short time that he was gone. Severus sat in the armchair, petting the cat on his lap absently, and appearing to be deep in thought. There was a sharp frown crossing his forehead, and he no longer looked as peaceful and relaxed as earlier today – as if leaving him alone, even for a short while, simply gave him an opportunity to brood.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked without preliminaries.

"Nothing," Severus said quickly. "But I've been thinking – maybe we should stop now."

"Oh. You didn't like what we were doing?" Harry clarified, trying to keep his voice as normal as possible, and trying not to look too obviously bothered by the fact that Severus was trying to break up with him not even twenty-four hours into the budding relationship.

"Of course I liked it. That's not the point."

"What is the point then?" Harry demanded.

"If this were not to work out, sharing living space afterwards could become extremely awkward. I'd like to avoid that."

"I suppose it might get awkward, sure," Harry admitted. "But... it's working out so far, isn't it?"

"We've only been at it for less than a day."

"I'm still missing your point," Harry insisted. "What are you saying?"

"Right now, you're enthusiastic, somewhat like a child who found some new toy, abandoned by someone. Playing with it. Not really knowing that the said toy might have some serious defect, and some sort of spring could pop out and jab you right in the eye."

"Bad analogy," Harry said with a forced grin. "You've been jabbing me in the eye since we first met. I'm used to it by now. And we're still talking to each other. I'd say, it's a good sign."

Severus snorted derisively, but didn't respond. For a long minute, Harry simply watched Severus, before finally coming up to him, and perching himself up on one of the arms of the armchair next to him. Severus pulled away at once, and Tripod jumped off his lap.

"Is that how you really think about yourself? A defective toy?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps it's a bad analogy," Severus conceded, his voice guarded, "but..."

"But what?"

"Something is broken about me. I don't quite know what it is. I just have a feeling that one of these days, _something will explode_, as they say. And if I'm fortunate, it won't hurt anyone but myself."

"Is that how you see yourself, then? A time-bomb of some sort?"

It seemed to take Severus a long minute to think over the Muggle expression.

"Yes. Something like that."

Harry sighed slightly, wanting to say something, but suspecting any words of reassurance might be wasted at this point. The only thing that could change Severus' mind was time – and plenty of it.

"Well," Harry spoke at last, choosing his words as carefully as possible, "if you're really not ready to go ahead, we can call it quits, and I won't bother you anymore. But I really think this could work. I'd like to give us a try."

Another long silence hung between them. Severus sat still, with his head bowed, and the long hair obscuring his face.

Resisting the urge to reach out and move those intrusive hair strands away, Harry shut his eyes, and simply waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, he felt Severus' hand reach for his and squeeze tightly.

"Enough of this nonsense then," Severus said simply. "Let's go to bed."

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

It was already late when he woke up the following morning. Harry was still sleeping soundly next to him, but the moment Severus stirred to make a move to get up, Harry's hand reached for him and stayed him.

"Don't go," Harry whispered. "Sleep more."

Severus turned around to face him, feeling just the smallest twinge of regret for the words said last night. All in all, he had the impression that yesterday, he had nearly committed one of the worst mistakes of his life – but by some unfathomable miracle, he hadn't. Harry's eyes opened to give him a concerned look.

"What?" Harry asked, and it almost hurt to hear the notes of wariness in his voice, as if he was still expecting Severus to change his mind any moment.

"Shh. Nothing," Severus said.

"We're still okay then?" Harry checked.

"Better than," Severus assured him, and Harry smiled, shifting closer to him.

For a few minutes they simply lay facing each other, barely touching, until finally Severus made another move to get up. This time Harry didn't hold him back.

He left the bedroom, and went downstairs, smiling to himself. For some reason, the thought of Harry still asleep was... heartwarming.

Once in the living room, he stopped by the window and for a while watched the rooks, hopping in their characteristic way upon the wet, multicoloured cover of autumn leaves.

For the moment, just standing there and watching was enough. He didn't want anything else, and he wanted nothing more. Everything fit and nothing was out of place. The lingering memory of Harry's touch on his shoulder was still almost tangible, and all of him was flooded with odd, unreal warmth that he wasn't sure he had a name for. _Happiness_, his mind supplied the word obligingly.

Happiness. It almost seemed like too much. But then again, what didn't seem like too much, after years of deprivation? Even the first drink of clean water had at one point seemed like an extraordinary indulgence. This was... just like that.

Then, a bold thought crossed his mind: maybe it was time. A happy _memory_, pure and untainted, he finally had it, of that he had absolutely no doubt.

He took a deep breath, pulling out his wand, and pointing it away.

"_Expecto Patronum_," he said.

He fully expected it to work this time, and was mildly surprised when it didn't. Not even the slightest shimmer of light emerged from the tip of his wand. Whatever other spells he'd relearned and mastered by now, this one continued to elude him for the time being.

He shrugged, and lowered his hand. A moment later, the wand slipped out of his fingers, falling to the floor. He barely noticed its departure.

When he heard Harry approach, he didn't turn around. By the way Harry paused in his footsteps for a brief moment Severus reckoned Harry must have worked out what'd just happened.

"Hey," Harry said softly, walking up to him, and standing behind him. "Sorry it didn't work this time."

"It's all right," Severus answered. "I don't care."

Harry's arms wrapped around him and Severus leaned into him, letting everything go once and for all. Expectations, hesitations, disappointments, failures, away it all went, and Harry's touch was the only thing that remained.

Harry's pointy chin pressed against his shoulder.

"Maybe you just need to get used to it. Being happy I mean," Harry said, then added. "Though I reckon it will take time."

"Time," Severus agreed mindlessly. "I imagine we have plenty of that."

**To be Continued...**


	46. Concerning Flight

**Concerning Flight**

The following morning Harry took Severus along to the Burrow.

Ginny had gone out to Quidditch practie early, preparing to play in the upcoming match, Molly explained with obvious pride.

Harry nodded absently. It'd been over a month since he crossed paths with Ginny while visiting Lily, and it was safe to assume that not all of this newly formed distance could be attributed to Quidditch. He wondered if he should tell her that she could stop avoiding him now – but his train of thought was interrupted by Lily's delighted scream.

She headed straight for Severus, deluging him with dozens of questions, from _Where have you been_ and _Why don't you visit more_ to _Did you know we have a dog. _For a couple of minutes she jumped around Severus and demanded to be picked up. Severus didn't, he simply stood in one place and stared awkwardly, as if not daring to as much as pat her head.

"Let's go outside," Harry said decisively, putting an end to the uncomfortable scene. "Lily, get your coat and boots. Severus, would you like one of Molly's famous sweaters?"

Severus shook his head but gave a sigh of genuine relief when Lily stopped pulling on his sleeves and ran off to get dressed.

"You seemed to be more comfortable around her when you first met her," Harry observed.

Severus shrugged. "Oddly enough, many things were easier back then," he admitted quietly. "Probably, because back then I had little notion of how..." his voice trailed off, and he didn't complete the sentence.

_Damaged toy, broken spring_ – unbidden, words flashed through Harry's mind and he sighed, wondering how long it would take Severus to come to believe otherwise.

A minute later, they stepped outside together, and Lily began jumping on the leaves, still wet with recent rain. Her attention was now turned to Harry.

"Take me for a ride on a broom!" she whined quietly. "Mum never does that anymore!"

"Never-never?" Harry teased. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Almost never," Lily amended grudgingly

"When was last time?"

"Yesterday. But she never does that long enough! She says it's too much like work!"

Harry laughed quietly, but before he had a chance to respond, she turned her attention back to Severus.

"Will you do it?" She asked. "Please? Do you know how to fly a broom?"

"Not very well. I find that the broom is a nuisance when you can fly without it."

It took Lily a long minute to take in Severus' words.

"You can fly without a broom?" She whispered, awed. "Can you show me?"

"I don't know if I still can. It's been a long time."

"Can you at least try?"

Severus cast a cautious glance at Harry.

"I'm quite certain I'm not supposed to do anything classified as Dark Arts, no matter how innocent it actually might be."

"Please!" Lily's pleading turned even more plaintive. "Just for a minute, and I won't tell anyone, ever-ever-ever!"

Harry gave Severus an encouraging smile.

For about a minute Severus stood absolutely still, as if attempting to recall something, or focus. Harry waited. He'd half expected to see a slow, cautious ascent, but when Severus took flight, it was as if a black arrow had shot upwards, flying astonishingly fast, with nothing holding it back.

**o-o-o**

Nothing – absolutely nothing had prepared him for the exhilaration of flight. For the brief time he'd spent airborn, everything else had faded into insignificance: the ministry's schemes, the fact that the Underground were after him, his own dependency on Potter – and even the memory of the last time he'd flown like this, escaping from Hogwarts. None of that mattered – and the only thing that did was the cold November wind beating against him, throwing a spray of rain in his face.

When he touched ground again, Lily was staring at him with her mouth wide open. Harry himself seemed taken aback, and for a second Severus dreaded that he'd say something stupid of the congratulatory sort. He didn't want that. This wasn't a milestone of any sort, he didn't want it to be seen as another "success" to be praised for. This was... just flight. Nothing else.

Harry smiled at him.

"You soar like an oversized bat."

"You're jealous," Severus instantly accused.

"Just a bit, yes. I don't know anyone else who can do that."

By that time, Lily regained her ability to speak.

"You don't need a broom or wand!" she delcared in wonder.

"I still need the wand. You always need the wand."

"But you weren't holding it, or saying any spells!"

"That doesn't matter. The wand needs to be on your person to channel your magic."

"Will you teach me to fly like that?" she demanded.

"Once you've mastered the advanced level of nonverbal charms and have your Apparition license, I'll consider it," Severus replied.

"When will that be?"

"When you're sixteen."

She used her fingers to count. "Eleven years," she declared, clearly disappointed. She then glanced at Severus hesitantly. "Can you take me flying now? Please?"

Severus gave Harry a doubtful look. Flying alone was one thing, but holding another's life in his hands while doing so was...

Before he could come up with a graceful way out of this, Harry picked Lily up and took a step forward. Severus stilled for a second as the most precious weight in the world was deposited into his arms without even as much as a moment's hesitation on Harry's part.

"Go ahead," Harry said. "Stay close though. If something goes wrong, I can levitate you both down safely. Deal?"

**-o-o-o-**

Severus and Lily were done with flying and were now playing fetch with the dog when Ginny, dishevelled and flushed, returned from Quidditch practice.

"You're back early," Harry said. She nodded, smiling.

"Done with training for the day. How are you?"

"Good. Really good." For a brief second, he wanted to say something along the lines of_ Severus and I_ – but the knowing look on Ginny's face made it unnecessary.

"I can tell. I don't think I've seen you this happy in a long time."

"Huh. Yeah. I am. Happy, that is."

"Me too." For a second, it seemed like she was going to say something else, but changed her mind.

"You're seeing somebody," Harry hazarded a guess.

"Kind of. On and off."

"Who?"

"Don't be nosy."

"Oh, come on," Harry said, chuckling, and feeling like a teenager again all of a sudden. "Come on. Tell me. Whoever it is, I promise I won't tease... much."

"Viktor Krum," Ginny said, the tips of her ears reddening ever-so-slightly.

"You're dating a Seeker from a rival team?"

"Shh. It gets better. We're playing against his team next week."

"Huh. Well I hope he doesn't mind much when you wipe the Quidditch field with him."

"So do I."

Silence hung between them, but it was neither tense nor awkward. If anything, it seemed like they'd managed to somehow go back in time and regain that state of tension-free friendship they used to enjoy back in school.

"Well. Good seeing you again, Ginn. We should get going I guess," Harry said finally.

Ginny shook her head.

"Nonsense. You and Severus should stay for dinner."

**-o-o-o-**

It was still early in the evening when they took the Floo back home. Their hands were still joined in a rather unambiguous fashion when they stumbled out of the hearth into Harry's living room, but Severus extracted his fingers from Harry's the moment he saw the unexpected visitor on the couch, with a half-emptied bottle of Firewhisky tucked between his knees.

"Draco?" Harry seemed to be even more stunned than Severus.

Draco glared at them both with poorly concealed irritation.

"I thought your home was supposed to be safe, Potter. Why isn't your Floo warded?"

"It _is_ warded," Harry snapped. "You're in my house wards, prat."

If Draco was mollified by Harry's explanation, he gave no sign of it.

"Fine. Where were you all day?"

"At the Burrow. Visiting Lily," Harry replied, clearly struggling to keep his temper in check.

Draco's lips curled into a bitter smile as he stared at Severus next.

"So you're babysitting Potter's brood now. How grand."

"You're intoxicated," Severus said bluntly, choosing to let the barb slide for the moment. "What's going on? Are you all right?"

Draco ignored his question and turned his head to Harry instead. "I need to talk to Weasley."

"Which one?" Harry asked, sounding short on patience.

"The idiot who heads the Auror office, that one!" Draco said in an incredibly brittle voice. "I need to talk to him in person."

"Can it wait until morning?"

"If it bloody could wait until morning, I wouldn't be here, would I?" Draco practically spat out those words. "Now, are you going to get Weasley, or should I just get up and leave?"

Harry issued a sigh of resignation. "Fine. I'll call him. Just... don't start a brawl."

Draco let out an indeterminate noise and but stayed quiet while Harry firecalled Ron, asking him to come over. Ron showed up ten minutes later, followed by Hermione. Draco ignored her, and stared at Ron instead, with his eyes narrowing down.

"Weasley, I'll get right to the point. Tell your goons to stop stalking me."

Ron stared back at Draco, confused.

"My – what? Nobody is stalking you, Malfoy."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Draco hissed at him. "I may not get out much these days, but I do know when I'm being watched and followed. Make it stop."

"I didn't order anyone to follow you," Ron protested. "When did it start?"

"I don't know. I was out in public three times in the last two months. Each time someone was on my tail. Weasley, this isn't even remotely funny."

"I'm not laughing," Ron answered with surprising calm. "But I don't know what's going on. I'll look into it though."

"Look into it," Draco echoed, not bothering to contain his disdain. "I suppose that'll take as long as Potter looking into helping Severus. In other words, forever."

"Stop it, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "Things like that take time. Maybe you should limit your public appearances for now. Stay home."

"Stay home," Draco repeated. "I've been doing nothing but staying home for the past – Merlin knows how long. Maybe I should just chain myself in someone's basement in exchange for protection. Why not? It seems to work fine for Severus."

Heat rushed to Severus' face at those words, and he made a nearly inhuman effort to compose himself before speaking.

"Draco Malfoy," he stated, speaking in a quiet and measured voice. "I think you should stop talking now. Go home and sober up. This spectacle isn't doing anyone any good."

Draco stared at him with an odd mixture of pity and contempt, then opened his mouth to say something, but Severus lifted his hand in the air, stopping him.

"Don't."

Draco glared defiantly, and for a second it looked like he was going to say something anyway, but then thought better of it. He turned around, and walked out of the house, letting the door slam shut behind him. Another slamming sound followed when he exited through the gate, and a loud crack of Disapparition announced his departure.

**To Be Continued...**


	47. Exposures

**Exposures**

For a few minutes, everyone stood mutely in stunned silence. Harry cast a nervous glance at Severus, whose face was completely neutral, as his ego wasn't bruised at all, and as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place a minute ago.

Hermione was the first to speak.

"We should go after him," she said, uncertain.

"Why bother?" Ron muttered. "He's an idiot."

"He isn't well. And he's drunk and upset. He could do something really stupid."

"More stupid than the scene he made here?" Ron said pointedly.

"Well. I guess that'd be hard to top," Hermione conceded with a weak smile. "But still. I think he came here looking for help. It just... all escalated into a row before we could fix it."

"You can't always fix everything," Harry spoke finally. "Maybe we should just let him be."

Harry had fully expected Ron to agree with him,and was surprised when Ron said, with obvious reluctance,

"Well, if someone _is_ following him, it's not a good idea to have him roam around Merlin-knows-where, drunk and angry. I think Hermione is right. We should go look for him."

"Maybe he went home," Harry said. He was still pissed off beyond all reason, and spending possibly the entire night looking for Draco wasn't his idea of fun.

"He would have used the Floo to go home," Ron pointed out.

"Right," Harry said with a resigned sigh. "Well, fine. You two go ahead."

"You should come with us," Ron insisted. "Come on, Harry, it could be important."

Harry cast a cautious look at Severus, who appeared to be completely unaffected by the confrontation. However, Harry knew by now that appearances could be deceiving.

"Would you like to come along?" Harry offered on an impulse.

"I doubt that'd be a good idea, given that it was my presence that provoked his outburst," Seveurs said at once. "You should go."

Hermione and Ron nodded to Severus and walked out of the house. Harry lingered for a bit and stared at Severus, trying to gage his real reaction to the words Draco had thrown at them in the heat of the moment.

"You all right?" Harry asked finally when he'd given up on reading anything in Severus' expression.

"I am not the one throwing hysterical fits in other people's houses," Severus replied tersely, but his voice softened slightly when he added, "I'm fine, Harry. Go."

Harry gave him a small nod and headed outside, where, behind the gate, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.

"Well, now we have to figure out where he took his drunken ass at this time of night," Ron said.

Harry cast a spell, taking a moment to analyze the Apparition trace left behind, still reasonably fresh but beginning to fade.

"Somewhere in London, or nearby."

"Let's go to Diagon and Knockturn," Hermione suggested. "Some places must be still open there."

Harry sighed, and lifted his hand to rub his forehead. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

**-o-o-o-**

The search of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley took an hour and turned out to be useless. Nobody had seen Draco, or if they had, they weren't talking. There was a faint Apparition trace present, but nothing else.

"Maybe he Apparated here, went to some shady establishment in Knockturn and took the Floo somewhere," Harry guessed.

"But where?" Hermione asked miserably.

Harry thought about it for a moment, and winced.

"Come on."

He led them inside the Leaky Cauldron, and headed straight towards the Floo.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked, keeping up with Harry's fast pace.

"Hogsmeade. Three Broomsticks."

"Why would he go there?"

"Because he's drunk and itching for a fight. Can you think of a better place?"

**-o-o-o-**

Harry's wild guess turned out to be accurate. It took them mere seconds to spot Draco, who was sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, nursing a glass of Firewhisky in his hands. People were casting curious glances at him, but Draco seemed intent on ignoring them. He barely looked up when Harry, Ron and Hermione approached.

Harry pulled up a chair and joined Draco at the table without asking for permission. Hermione and Ron followed suit, and Draco finally lifted his head and gave them mirthless smirk.

"Came to tell me how wrong I am? Save your breath."

"What's gotten into you? It's not like you to attack Severus like that," Harry said, as neutrally as he could manage.

"Oh, I am so terribly sorry. I suppose I should pretend everything is fine, and that you aren't sabotaging the only avenue to freedom he's got left," Draco said contemptuously.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry snapped.

Draco stared at Harry with cold amusement.

"Are you really that stupid? Lovegood says that the only way for Severus to prove his innocence to the Wizarding World would be to generate that bloody Doe Patronus that you've told everyone about. There's just no way he'll be able to do that now. Not after you've insinuated yourself so deep into his life, and conveniently replaced every happy memory he ever had with _yourself_." Draco's lips curled into a derisive grimace. "Though I suppose you like it that way. Fun to have someone completely dependent on you, isn't it, Potter?"

Harry gulped, finding that his hands were clenching into fists of their own accord, and realizing belatedly it might come to wands – or blows, in spite of his best intentions. Ron noticed that and placed a warning hand on Harry's shoulder.

"So quiet, Potter?" Draco taunted. "But don't worry. I doubt he cares. In fact, I doubt he even notices what a pathetic, pitiful spectacle his life has become, thanks to you..."

"Stop it!" Hermione's indignant whisper sounded more like a cat's hiss. "It's not our fault that you can't pull yourself together and have a normal life!"

Draco gave her an unpleasant smile. "And whose fault is this, huh, Granger? You're the _good_ ones. You've won the war. You've built this pretty new world, where those who didn't happen to be on your side are now reduced to nothing. Don't tell me you aren't enjoying yourself."

Hermione winced, and her face paled slightly at those words. She shook her head, and seemed like she wanted to say something, but didn't quite manage it.

People in the room began to whisper, and a small crowd was forming a loose semicircle around them. Draco stood up, swaying slightly. The table wobbled when Draco leaned on it for support.

"What are you staring at?" Draco addressed the onlookers, his voice slurred. "Huh? What are you all staring at? Want to see a Death Eater? Is that it? Wondering if you should be scared of me?"

"Malfoy, stop it," Harry whispered, reaching across the table for Draco's shoulder to make him sit down again, although without success. "Shut the fuck up."

Ron stood up and made an attempt to wave the crowd away. "Ey, just ignore him. He's just drunk. We were just leaving. There's nothing to see."

"He's drunk, yes," Draco echoed mockingly. "But there's something to see." He threw Harry's hand off his shoulder and stood up straight, staring directly at the crowd. Then, before either Harry or Hermione could reach for him, he bared his left arm and lifted it in the air, exposing his Dark Mark to everyone's view.

"Here! Is this what you all wanted to see? Is it? Are you bloody happy now?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw someone in the crowd pull out a wand, and reached for his. Ron and Hermione drew their wands as well, and turned around, shielding Draco from the pub's patrons. All conversations ceased, and for a long minute they were at a standstill, three wands against a at least two dozen, with Draco separated by nothing but the trio's bodies from the hostile crowd.

Just then, Rosmerta made an appearance, walked trough the parting crowd and stopped a few feet away from the four of them, glaring at them mutely.

Harry was the first to speak.

"As Ron was saying, we were just leaving. Excuse us." He reached for Draco and grabbed him by the elbow. This time Draco made no protest, but simply went limp in Harry's grip and allowed himself to be dragged out of the pub. Hermione and Ron were moving behind them, creating a fragile human buffer between the crowd and Draco.

Once they were outside, and a safe distance from the pub, Draco sank onto the ground on the side of the road and hugged his body with his arms. Harry and Hermione sat down next to him. Ron remained standing, his wand still out, scanning the area for potential trouble.

"What's gotten into you?" Hermione asked quietly. "What did you do that for?"

Draco shuddered quietly and tucked his face into his knees.

"Tired," he mumbled. "So fucking tired of everything."

"Well, that was really daft," Harry said ruthlessly. "There we are, trying to make sure that nobody finds out about your Dark Mark, and you go ahead and do _this_. What if the Underground gets wind of this, and decides you're a threat to their plans? Do you even realize how much danger you've placed yourself in?"

At the mention of the Underground, Draco twitched noticeably, and slowly lifted his head. Harry winced in sympathy when he noticed that Draco's cheeks were streaked with tears.

"D... do you think it could have been the D... Death Eaters following me?" Draco's teeth chattered as he spoke.

Harry shrugged.

"I doubt that," Ron said quietly, still looking at the Three Broomsticks, as if anticipating trouble to come at any moment. "Current intelligence suggests that they are scattered and desperate. I don't think they have the resources to follow every former Slytherin student who might or night not have the Dark Mark. Mind you, now that your secret is out, it's only a matter of time until they hear."

Draco shuddered again, as if the full weight of what he'd done in a fit of drunken rage finally settled on his shoulders.

"You really should stay put in your Manor, Malfoy," Ron said bluntly. "Don't even think of going out alone. Same goes for your mother."

"I..."

Ron turned around and stared at him. "Do you have family other than your mum? A girlfriend? Children?"

For a second Draco froze, but then shook his head.

"No. No, nobody."

"Good. At least you don't have to worry about someone else being at risk because of your stupidity."

"Well, yes. There's that."

Another silence hung between them. Draco was taking deep breaths, as though trying to calm himself.

"You could come home with me," Harry offered on an impulse. "We've got room, and..."

"No, thanks," Draco said, interrupting. "I've got it. I know what I'll do."

"And what's that?"

"I'll disappear. Just... take some money, change my appearance and leave the country. Go someplace else."

"Like where?"

"Don't know. I'll figure something out. Just as far away from here as I can manage will do. The Underground isn't as big in other parts of the world. So...I'll just hide away until everything is over. I know how to do that."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. It did seem reasonable, sort of. And likely, less risky than staying here, where the Underground activity was most rampant.

"I understand, I guess. For now, let's take you home. All right?"

Draco nodded, appearing to have no energy left to protest.

The four of them Apparated to the gates of the Manor together, and walked together to the very door of the old building. Harry and Ron took it upon themselves to cast the diagnostic spells on the wards around the Manor.

"Maybe you should stay here, after all," Hermione said hesitantly. "At least it's safe inside. And the wards will inform all of us if something is wrong..."

Draco just shook his head, and Hermione dropped the subject without finishing the sentence. For a few minutes they all simply stood by the door in awkward silence, not knowing what to say, but not quite ready to part company yet.

Finally Draco spoke.

"Potter. Tell Severus I said goodbye for now."

"Okay."

"Tell him, I'm sorry. I really... shouldn't have said any of that."

"I'll tell him."

"Well, good."

Hermione smiled one of her sad smiles at him.

"You really did something very stupid today."

"Yes, Granger, you've mentioned that about a hundred times by now."

"Well, it was very brave too. Almost Gryffindor."

Draco huffed, feigning insult. "There's absolutely no need for rudeness."

They all laughed together, but the laughter didn't last long. Draco gave them one parting nod, and disappeared behind the doors that shut behind him almost instantly.

**-o-o-o-**

When Harry finally returned home, Severus had already gone to bed, but wasn't sleeping yet. He simply lay on his back, with his eyes shut, not making a single move when Harry wormed his way under the blanket, and stretched out alongside him.

"How did it go?" Severus asked.

"Um. Not that great."

"What happened?"

"Draco made a scene at Three Broomsticks and showed his Dark Mark to a few dozen people. Then he decided to leave the country."

Severus issued a dry, bitter laugh. "A fitting conclusion to an absolutely insane evening. Narcissa will be thrilled, I'm sure. Still, there's some logic to him wanting to go into hiding."

"He also asked to tell you he's sorry."

"Hmm."

"I think he really meant it."

"I'm sure he did. Just like he meant what he'd said earlier. From his perspective, I've exchanged my freedom for safety and protection."

"That's a stupid perspective," Harry said at once, and Severus chuckled quietly. "Severus? You must know that's not how anybody thinks of you."

For a while Severus didn't answer. Harry turned sideways and looked at him. In the dusk of the room, Severus' profile was clearly outlined, and seemed somehow both severe and lonely.

When Severus finally spoke, it made Harry ache for him all over again.

"Harry. I think it's too late for me to worry about what people think."

**To Be Continued...**


	48. Instinct

**Instinct**

Severus fully expected to wake up first, with Harry still sleeping by his side. However when he opened his eyes, Harry was no longer in bed.

He found Harry downstairs, occupying Severus' new favourite spot by the window. The last night's misadventure clearly had taken a toll on Harry – he looked tired, distressed, with dark circles under his eyes, and an utterly miserable expression on his face.

"I thought you'd still be in bed," Severus said, approaching him. "It's not like you to be up at six in the morning."

"I was up at five. Can't sleep."

"You could have woken me if you needed a reason to stay in bed," Severus pointed out, allowing his fingers to brush against Harry's shoulder in a way that was slightly more than just friendly.

Harry smiled weakly and shook his head. "Just... nervous, I guess. Worried about everything. Including... that." Harry tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against Severus' fingers. "I know you get frustrated when I try saying that, but I really wouldn't want to end up doing something that... has bad memories for you. And ruin everything."

"You won't," Severus snapped, a bit more irritably than he intended. For a moment or so, he wanted nothing more than make a claim to absolute and utter normalcy, but he suspected that the scars littering his body, as well as his constant twitches, would make that claim less than believable. Harry exhaled sharply when Severus squeezed his shoulder even tighter. "You won't," Severus repeated, a bit milder this time. "Harry, I have no urge to discuss the details of my imprisonment with anyone, even you, but I will tell you one thing. It is perhaps a blessing of sorts that all sexual encounters imposed on me during my captivity were grotesquely violent. I doubt that anything _here_ will remind me of that sort of thing."

Harry just gave the smallest of nods, his cheek lingering against the back of Severus' hand.

"You must have been terrified."

Severus frowned. There was something about being with Harry that was having a disinhibiting effect on him. He wasn't certain how much of it was due to the trust that had been built between them, or how much was simply due to the calming effects of magic Harry was unthinkingly working on him with every touch. Perhaps, it didn't matter anymore.

"_Terrified_ perhaps isn't the word," Severus said, after giving it a moment's thought. Just the smallest twinge of bitterness came with those words, but he continued to speak. "Reduced. Reduced to nothing but instinct. Desire for food, water, sleep, escape from pain. All higher reasoning gone, and none wanted. Nothing left but the very basic essence of living."

Harry's eyes lit up with alarm. "Nothing but instinct... it's not like that anymore for you, is it?"

"I don't know. Frankly, I don't care. Why the sudden questioning, Potter?"

"Yesterday. Draco said that... well, I've forced myself too much into your life, or something along those lines. He said that I'm sabotaging your freedom."

"Nonsense," Severus denied at once. "If slavery were your game, you would have played it already. All you had to do was raise your voice at me once just after bringing me home, and accept sexual favours. I would have obeyed happily, and never known that there was anything wrong with that picture. But apparently that's not what you wanted."

Harry shook his head.

"No. I mean, I never wanted that sort of thing; but... on the other hand, I haven't made any progress in the last few months. Everything I tried led to a dead end of some sort. Vector magic research is going nowhere. I'm out of the loop on what's going on in the higher echelons of the Ministry, and so is Ron... and well, I'm out of ideas on how to prove your innocence to the Ministry who don't want to hear anything. Everything has slowed down to a crawl, and I've got nobody to blame but myself."

"This... slowing down is understandable," Severus said. "Nobody is able to continue functioning in crisis mode indefinitely, Potter. Eventually the routine of normal life reasserts itself and the problem you are trying to solve becomes a part of your daily existence. "

Severus quickly realized he'd said something wrong, because Harry winced noticeably at his words. "So you're saying I've given up, but that's all right?" Harry demanded with sudden anger in his voice.

"I'm saying," Severus insisted, a bit impatiently, "that we've lost some momentum, that's all. And, perhaps, the fact that you've chosen to cater to all of my whims and twitches is the reason for it," Severus added with vague amusement. "And trust me, right now I have no complaints." He reached for Harry's hand and urged him to his feet until their bodies almost touched. "Maybe instinct is all I've got left – but what a way to indulge it. Isn't it what you told me to do anyway? Indulge?"

Harry laughed quietly, and leaned against Severus, the contact bringing with it the familiar sweet warmth. Severus laughed as well, eager to push the semi-awkward conversation out of his mind for the time being.

"Don't make it more complicated than it needs to be," Severus advised him. "If I do something, it's simply because I want to – and because I expect it to feel good." Taking Harry's face in his hands, Severus kissed him deeply, and was rewarded by the instant grinding of Harry's thigh against his.

"Mmhm," Harry murmured, beginning to kiss him back. "Yes, all right then."

**o-o-o-o-o**

They ended up in bed shortly thereafter. For a few minutes they engaged in a playful half-wrestling match, that Harry seemed to have no intention of winning. Still, at some point Severus found himself lying face down, with Harry pushing his hair away to expose the back of his neck and kiss it. Harry's hand moved to massage his shoulders again, and Severus let out a long, contented sigh. There was not even a momentary freezup when Harry's hand came into contact with his old injuries, or when Harry's tongue traced his spine, from neck to tailbone. There was nothing left, nothing but simple and pure pleasure, the now familiar sweet warmth of it running along the paths of contact, growing with every touch to envelop his entire body.

A few moments later he felt Harry's erection nudge against his thigh, and on an impulse parted his legs, waiting for Harry to make the next move – or not. He didn't quite know what exactly possessed him to do that now, whether he was making his escape from his sordid past, or finally surrendering to the cumulative weight of it – but then all thought had left him, leaving nothing but pure instinct and drive for something _more_, and the strange, unfamiliar desire to let Harry in, and grant him access to everything he was.

It felt good. Anything felt good at Harry's hands, as if Harry simply wanted him to feel nothing but pleasure – and was succeeding in that, without fail. It wasn't possible to tell how much of this enjoyment was a result of that insidious, comforting magic of the bond that Harry's hands were delivering with every touch, and how much of it he would have felt anyway; but Severus no longer cared. All he cared about was that it was _good_.

It was good to be guided to kneel up, to have Harry's arms wrap around him. It was good to be entered. Harry was so deep inside him, it probably should have hurt – but it didn't. Everything felt blissfully good and blissfully normal, as if the two of them were simply growing into each other, after being apart for too long.

**o-o-o-o-o**

For a while afterwards, Harry lay on top of him, breathing deeply, as if he was beginning to fall asleep. Severus stirred, and Harry climbed off promptly, but instantly found a spot on Severus' shoulder to rest his head.

"How was that?" Harry asked softly.

"Good, of course." Severus couldn't contain his amusement when he asked, "Dare I guess what you used for lubricant?"

"Uh."

"Yes?"

"Ginny's hand cream that she left behind," Harry admitted sheepishly. "You didn't give me much warning!" he added, defensive. "I had to improvise."

"Quick thinking, Potter. We'll make a decent strategist out of you yet."

Harry laughed out loud, but his laugh turned into a yawn and he drifted off, with Severus following his example.

**o-o-o-o-o**

Severus woke up from the odd sensation that something was wrong. His body felt...achy. More than that – there was an insidious, nagging fever, worming its way through his veins and bones, flaring up with every movement.

He rubbed his eyes, suddenly realizing that he didn't remember where he was, or what was going on.

The slightest twinge of discomfort in his backside, along with traces of semen on his thighs informed him of the recent activities and for some reason he felt nauseated by this realization, even though he couldn't tell why.

He was in bed with someone - Severus turned his head and stared at the naked man, sound asleep next to him. He recognized Potter's face, and the disorientation continued to intensify. He and Potter – were _together_? He wasn't displeased by that fact, he realized with a start ... but he couldn't help but wonder _how_ that happened, or _when_.

He got up abruptly, and donned the dressing gown that lay near on the side of the bed – he presumed it was his. He didn't remember where his wand was, and he didn't want to make noise by a lengthy search. All he wanted to do was get out of the bedroom, be alone and _think_.

Every move hurt and Severus was unsteady on his feet, but he chose to keep moving. Slowly, using the walls for support, he walked downstairs. Maybe there would be some healing potion in the house, he thought, even though he couldn't recognize the symptoms, and didn't exactly know what potion he would take for something like this. Although, perhaps a simple analgesic draught would do... except, a nasty doubt entered his mind, didn't he have a resistance to that sort of thing? He couldn't remember that either.

Once he made it into the living room, the unfamiliar surroundings took him by surprise. Somehow, he'd hoped he'd be able to remember at least something once he got here, but there was nothing that he could recall – the hearth, he couch near it, the armchair, the bookshelves – nothing seemed to ring a bell.

And he still couldn't remember what he was doing here, in this house. He only remembered that upstairs, Potter was naked in bed.

The fever seemed to continue to grow, becoming agonizing and nearly twisting his gut into a tight knot that he wasn't certain anybody could ever untangle.

Moving cautiously, he sat down on the couch and hugged his body with his arms. He froze involuntarily when his hands came in contact with scar tissue on his own skin. Automatically, he traced those scars with his fingers and thought they seemed like whip marks. He didn't remember getting those injuries. Where did they come from? Was Potter the one to inflict them?

For some reason, the mere thought of cruelty at Harry's hands brought with it a pang of debilitating, unfathomable grief. Severus stood up and headed to the bookshelves, his fingers now running over the dusty bookends. He didn't know what he was looking for. Perhaps a journal of some sort, some sort of paper that would explain at least something, one way or another.

His eyes stopped on a piece of parchment that looked slightly out of place. He pulled it out and stared, barely able to focus. It was a birth certificate of some sort – but all he could make out was the child's name. Lily Eileen Potter.

A wave of irrational, and nearly idiotic relief washed over him. A child, named after Harry's mother, and Severus'. That... meant something. They were... family. This was home.

"Home," Severus whispered in wonder. His hands shaking, he clutched the fragile parchment and drew it to his heart. He didn't let go of it even when his legs buckled and he fell, oblivion claiming him before he could feel the impact.

**To Be Continued...**


	49. Tremors

**Tremors**

Harry woke up with a start when he heard the crash from the living room. He bolted upright, grabbed his wand and glasses, and rushed downstairs, skipping steps.

Something had happened. Severus was lying on the floor, limbs tangled in his dressing gown, squeezing Lily's birth certificate in his hands.

"Severus," Harry whispered, touching his bare shoulder, and nearly yelping at how hot Severus' skin felt to touch. "Severus, wake up, please."

Severus' lips moved slightly, but he made no sound and didn't open his eyes. Harry moved to the hearth and firecalled Luna's place, praying that Marietta would be there. Thankfully she was, and she arrived promptly – Harry barely had the time to button up Severus' dressing gown on him and move him to the couch by the time Marietta stepped out of the hearth, wand in hand.

She crouched by the couch next to the still unconscious Severus and began casting diagnostic spells one after another. Perching himself up on the armrest of the couch, Harry watched her expression while she worked, his heart sinking whenever she frowned, or bit her lip. When she was done, she set her wand aside.

"The symptoms," Harry asked at once, "they're similar to the ones he had last time he was sick, aren't they?"

"Yes. Almost identical actually," Marietta confirmed. "Fever, elevated blood pressure... as well as a substantial spike in brain activity. But there's no cause... well, none that I can find. Once again, I can't suggest a treatment, other than keeping him comfortable and hoping it will pass on its own."

Harry nodded quickly. "Last time you said it could be psychosomatic. Some sort of flashback that he didn't know how to handle? Reaction to stressors or triggers? " He realized he was grasping at straws, but the inability to work this out was nothing short of maddening.

"I don't know. Maybe. Did anything unusual happen in the last few days?"

For a few minutes he simply talked, while Marietta listened attentively. To his surprise, she didn't even bat an eyelid when he mentioned the "together" part.

"I see. Well, practising advanced nonverbal magic can put a stress on your system, if it's somewhat out of whack already. If someone has abandonment issues, seeing a close friend walk out on them might be intensely upsetting. As for you and Severus trying out an intimate relationship at this point..." she hesitated slightly before continuing, and Harry gave her a quizzical look. "Harry... It's a tricky matter, to enter a relationship with someone who is dependent on you to this extent. Are you sure he wants this as much as you do? That he didn't just convince himself of it to make you happy?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Harry snapped, instantly defensive. "You know, stupid as it may sound, it just... happened. One thing led to another...and..."

Her expression softened slightly.

"I wasn't trying to pry or accuse you," she said more mildly. "Though it's not easy to be with someone who is very sick. Takes a lot of energy..."

"I keep hearing that," Harry said. "I suppose I don't really get it." When Marietta gave him a quizzical look, he elaborated. "Being hurt, being sick and all that – that's just somehow seems normal. Maybe it doesn't weigh me down as much as it should because I don't expect people to be happy or healthy to begin with, you know?"

It took Marietta a long minute to take in his words.

"People – or yourself?"

"Well... yes. Both."

Marietta let out a deep sigh, appearing to be absorbed in her own thoughts. "Maybe it's better this way," she said quietly. "Better than the expectation some people place on themselves to never be weak, or ill, or anything less than perfectly well."

For a second Harry wondered if she meant Snape, or herself, but then realized it could easily apply to both. He stared at Severus again, and reached for the sleeve on his left arm, rolling it up. The Dark Mark on Severus' forearm was didn't just look bright again – it looked inflamed, with thin dark-red tendrils spreading outwards across his skin.

"Just like the last time," Harry muttered, resting his palm atop the images of the skull and the serpent, and wincing at how hot Severus' skin felt. "You know, maybe there's something more to this." Confused, Marietta glanced at him, and Harry continued, "Remember, the Underground keep monkeying about with the Dark Mark, recreating it and all... and it's a dangerous thing to meddle in, unless you know exactly what you're doing. Maybe they fucked up somehow, and now everyone who is marked got sick. Including Severus."

Marietta sighed. "Well, that would certainly account for me not being able to trace the cause of the illness. But there's no way of knowing... Harry! What if the... Underground... what if they've found a way to direct some sort of curse aimed specifically at Severus? To use the Dark Mark connection to single him out and kill him?"

"Oh shit," Harry whispered, gripping Severus' hand tightly.

"Well," Marietta said softly. "Just one more reason to bring them down."

"The only question is how." If he had had a way of doing so, he likely would have headed out to start seeking out and dismantling the remaining Underground compounds singlehandedly – and the inability to _do_ something right away was infuriating beyond all reason.

For a while they were still silent, Harry holding Severus' hand, and Marietta sitting on the floor, with her eyes shut, hugging her knees.

Harry's gaze rested on her wand, lying nearby.

"That's not Luna's. You got your wand back?"

Without opening her eyes, she gave a small nod of confirmation.

"Funny. Percy helped. Luna told her dad, he told Arthur, and I guess Arthur put in a good word for me."

"Oh. Well, that's good."

"Yeah. Makes me feel like we're just one big weird family," Marietta said dryly. "The Light Brigade, the Weasleys, and Snape."

"In a way, I think we are," Harry mused, reaching down to take Severus' hand in his. "Speaking of families. Did you ever make up with your mum?"

"No."

"Sorry."

"I'll live." Marietta twitched, grabbed her wand and stood up abruptly. "Listen, do you need anything? Food? Do you want me to stick around and help?"

"No. It's all right, I've got it. Thanks."

"Okay. If he gets worse, or if anything unusual happens, firecall me right away, okay? I'll be either at Luna's, or at the _Quibbler_ office."

**o-o-o-o-o**

For some time after Marietta left, Harry simply sat on the floor next to the couch, watching Severus, who was tossing and turning, and gasping for air. Hesitantly, Harry stretched out his hand to touch Severus' forehead, and he at once pressed his flushed face into Harry's palm, as if, even in his delirium, he was finding a measure of solace in the contact.

Severus woke in the late afternoon and sat up on the couch with Harry's help, but stared around, as if not recognizing his surroundings. Harry managed to get him to drink some juice, and even that took some time.

"Let's get you to bed," Harry offered. "I'll help you upstairs."

Severus gave him a vacant look, but when Harry repeated the statement he nodded mutely, and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

It took them a while to get upstairs, with Severus leaning heavily on Harry's shoulder, and Harry bearing as much of his weight as he could.

Once they reached the bedroom, Severus sat on the edge of the bed, with his head bowed, seeming to be barely aware of what was going on. Tremors were running throughout his body and he was swaying from side to side, clutching his hands together, as if in an attempt to still himself.

"You should lie down and rest," Harry said softly. Startled by his voice, Severus lifted his head to look up at Harry.

"You seem older than I remember you," Severus muttered, his voice hoarse and brittle. "Tell me, how long has it been?"

"Since when?"

Severus fell silent, probably trying to recall his last memory. "I don't know," he said finally, shaking his head in resignation. He dropped onto the bed to lie on top of the blanket, and stared up into the ceiling.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked, sitting on the bed next to him.

Severus frowned, as if trying to find the words. Eventually, he offered a quiet "wiped out."

"You look very tired," Harry said, taking Severus' hand in his.

"No. It's not that," Severus whispered, his fingers squeezing Harry's hand. There was an ache in Severus' voice when he added, "We're lovers, it seems. Downstairs I saw a birth certificate. We have a daughter?"

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"With her mother. Ginny."

"Ah. You know, I don't remember her. I barely remember you. It's maddening." Severus pulled his hand out of Harry's, and grasped his own forearm at the site of the Dark Mark. "It burns again." He turned his head and stared at Harry intently. "But it's not real, is it? The war is over?"

"Yes. It's been over for a long time now. We won."

"I don't remember that either." He let out a tired sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. "It is as if...I'm being wiped out. Erased. Soon there will be nothing left."

Harry settled down next to him, stretching out alongside and putting an arm around Severus.

"It won't happen. You were sick like this once before. It passed. You'll be okay again. You'll remember everything."

Severus turned tolie on his side. His eyes shone with the intensity of a dying man, intent on seeing and remembering as much as possible in the brief time allotted to him.

"What if I don't?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

Harry held him tighter.

"Then we'll make new memories."

**o-o-o-o-o**

Drifting in and out of unconsciousness, Severus didn't know anything else, other than that he was with Harry, and Harry was holding him.

The dark fiery river was still running through him, appearing intent on wiping everything out in its wake. But there was something else mixed into that. Harry's hands were on him, cool flattened palms pressing against his flushed skin.

It seemed as if his body and his mind were a battleground of some sort – the black fire flooding him, and Harry's touch responding to each twinge of pain, to each burst of that flame with an instant offer of something soothing and cooling to offset the suffering.

For the moment he couldn't recall the meaning of the magic that Harry was using on him. It was something... something that went deeper than anything else, something that took a hold of his very life force and sustained it with every touch.

For the briefest of moments he thought he should refuse this sort of aid, but a part of him already knew that there was no way he could handle _this_ on his own. It seemed like a choice between living and dying – and... he knew he was home, he had some sort of life – he was certain of that, if nothing else. It didn't make sense to give up on it now, and with everything still left in him, without shame or reservation, he clung to Harry's touch.

**-o-o-o-o-**

When Severus woke up again the fever was gone, his thoughts cleared, at least enough to remember everything, including his delirious state. A part of him suspected he should have been ashamed – but somehow, being with Harry left little room for any self-recrimination or doubt.

He was still feeling weak as a newborn kitten, but he insisted on walking downstairs on his own. Harry made a meal – some sort of soup, and Severus picked at it unenthusiastically.

"Feeling better?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Well, good. Well enough to talk?"

"Yes, fine," Severus muttered, not quite sure what sort of conversation it was going to be. For a brief second he wondered if he had worn Harry out with his constant maladies, but the undisguised affection in Harry's expression made him dismiss his doubts almost instantly.

"Marietta and I were wondering," Harry said, "Could it be that the Death Eaters are using the Dark Mark to make you sick? Possibly to kill you? Is it possible that they are directing some sort of curse or malicious spell through this connection, aimed specifically at you?"

Severus barely managed a crooked smirk; even his face felt tired.

"You tell me, Mister Potter. You have been studying the vector magic on your own for how long now? You should have a good grasp of the theory at this point." His hand shook slightly when he flicked his wand to summon a piece of parchment and a quill, and drafted a simple diagram – a pyramid, with arrows pointing from the top down. He pushed the picture towards Harry, who took it in his hands and stared at it.

"Fuck," Harry said, breathing out a sigh of relief. "No, that's not possible. It's a strict hierarchical structure. Voldemort used to be on top of it, but now that he's out of the picture, those who were originally marked form the top of the hierarchy. And you can can't single out and harm someone on top of this pyramid: such an action can only travel downwards."

"Excellent. Ah, these rare wondrous occasions when you actually _do_ bother to think..."

"I really hate it when you talk down to me, by the way."

"Then you should never make any mistakes, or say anything stupid."

Harry winked at him mischievously, sweeping the drawing away.

"You know what? I don't care what you say. I'm very clever. If you don't recognize it, it's your loss."

**o-o-o-o**

Severus spent most of the evening sitting in the armchair, resting. Harry fed him something, brought water, and threw a quilt on his lap to cover him – Severus barely remained half-awake through it all.

The feeling of malady had faded, and the only thing that remaining was the mind-numbingly pleasant lassitude, as if he had finally granted himself permission to be sick, without any guilt. He drifted off to sleep with Tripod on his lap, and woke only when someone stepped out of the Floo and the already familiar child's voice rang through the living room. He opened his eyes and turned his head to see Lily, jumping up and down impatiently, with Ginny's hand on her shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to restrain her enthusiasm.

"I'm surprised you decided to bring Lily along," Harry said in a half-whisper, coming up to them."You know, us being a target and all..."

"Just this once," Ginny murmured. "And only for a minute. Couldn't keep her back, she's incorrigible."

"We heard you were sick so we came to visit!" Lily cried out and rushed to Severus. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Tripod. "You never said you had a cat!" she accused instantly.

Severus lifted an eyebrow at that. "I assumed you knew."

Instantly mollified by his explanation she advanced, more slowly this time, and petted the cat who proceeded to lick her fingers and rub himself against her hand.

"He's so nice," she whispered in awe, but then stared up at Severus, as if hesitating to ask the next question. "Why did you get sick? You didn't catch a cold when you took me flying, did you?"

Severus shook his head. "No. Absolutely not."

"I was worried you got sick because of me."

"You shouldn't be." He stared at her intently, suddenly stunned by the sight of the tiny face in front of him, recognizing the features of different people that somehow all lived in that one small human being now – Lily Evans, Harry, Ginny, Molly... and seeing the deep frown forming between the tiny eyebrows, for a split second he thought he even recognized something of himself – the nagging worry that something was going to go wrong because of him. "Nothing bad will ever happen because of _you," _he said firmly.

Satisfied, she leaped onto the armrest of the chair, and made herself at home next to him.

"Well, good. I really liked the flying. I want to fly someday." She stared at him intently and then informed him, "Mum flies a lot. She has a game next week. Will you and dad come watch her play? Mum says you and dad should both come!" Still uncertain of his welcome to that event, Severus shrugged. Lily turned her head to stare across the room, where Harry and Ginny were talking quietly by the kitchen entrance. "Dad!" Lily shouted, a bit louder than she needed to. "You and Severus Snape are both coming to the big game, aren't you?"

"We'll try our best to make it," Harry replied right away.

Ginny, standing on her tiptoes, whispered something in Harry's ear, and he snickered loudly. Ginny laughed as well, headed to the armchair and picked Lily up.

"All right, the minute is up. Time to go."

Still laughing, Ginny nodded a quick goodbye to Severus, and stepped into the Floo, with Lily in her arms. Severus glanced at Harry who was still smirking.

"What's so funny?" Severus demanded, instantly irritated to be excluded from the amusement.

"She said it was funny that it took a finalized divorce to get me to come to one of her games," Harry explained, grinning. "She's right. It _is_ kind of funny."

"That's not funny at all," Severus muttered. "You're an arse, Potter. There's no other way of putting it."

Harry's eyes flashed unrepentantly.

"Oh well. I guess you and I are well suited then, aren't we?"

**To Be Continued...**


	50. The Seeker and the Snitch

**The Seeker and the Snitch**

The crowd surrounding the Quidditch stadium was enormous. People were forming multiple lines, waiting to pass the obligatory security check at the gates. The precautions reminded Harry of those in a Muggle airport – every single arrival was scanned, and at times searched. Few expressed offence at such treatment, and were turned away from the game without apologies.

Severus seemed to have fully recovered from his illness, but still, Harry found himself wondering if there was a way to skip the lengthy wait and proceed directly to the seating area. He turned around to look for Ron, who noticed them and approached them right away.

"Hey there," Ron said, pre-empting Harry's question. "Can't let you in without a security check. I can take you to the VIP entrance though, come with me."

Harry and Severus followed him to a much shorter line.

"Sorry," Ron said, giving them a rueful smile. "Rules are rules. Nobody gets in without being scanned."

"Nobody?" Harry teased. "Even Diggory himself had to go through the security check-in?"

"Yes. He didn't mind. Sets a good example for everyone and such."

"What are you looking for, anyway?" Harry asked as Ron and two Aurors began casting diagnostic spells on him and Severus.

"Just making sure that nobody is bringing in any dangerous artefacts or substances," Ron said. "Or Muggle weapons, for that matter. We're also checking everyone for a Dark Mark – no offence, Professor."

"None taken," Severus muttered under his breath.

"There's a complex network of wards to separate the Quidditch pitch from the stands, and another one, around the perimeter of the stadium," Ron continued. "The equipment station and players' lockers are heavily guarded as well: only the players and a select few of the security personnel are allowed in."

"Do you think the Underground might try something?" Harry asked.

"I doubt it," Ron replied confidently. "There hasn't been any terrorist activity for months I wasn't bragging the other day when I said that the Underground is just about done for. They most definitely don't have the manpower to do anything big at the moment. Still, it's the most attended public event of the year, so it doesn't hurt to be careful... and look at that, we're done. You are clear to enter."

Harry nodded. Just as he and Severus were about to enter the gate leading to the stadium, Amos Diggory approached them, accompanied by a small group of Aurors.

Instinctively, Harry reached for Severus' hand and their fingers locked together. Severus' expression remained pointedly indifferent, but Harry could tell his tension was mounting.

Diggory looked at Ron. "How is it going?"

"Good. Sir, are you sure it's wise for you to be making a public appearance?"

"Why wouldn't it be? It's safe, isn't it? After all, you've taken every security precaution imaginable."

"Yes, but..."

Diggory shook his head.

"Ron. I realize that we haven't won the battle quite yet, but we're close, you've said so yourself. If I start hiding now, start avoiding public appearances, then it'll be a defeat in itself. They won't drive any of us into hiding. We won't let them," Diggory said, staring at Severus point blank. "You're allowing _him_ in?"

Ron shrugged, feigning indifference.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"For crying out loud, Ron, he's one of them! I certainly hope he isn't carrying a wand, or if he is, you'll make him surrender it for the duration..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Severus' right hand balling up into a fist.

"He will not be surrendering his wand," Harry interrupted, eager to put an end to the ridiculous confrontation. "He's with me. If you try to take away his wand, we'll all leave."

"I daresay, Harry, the game can proceed just fine without you watching it," Diggory quipped at once. "Then again, if you choose to associate with the Death Eaters and..."

"I don't think you heard me," Harry cut him off. "If you insist on confiscating Severus' wand, my family and friends will _all_ leave the game. Including Ginny." Harry allowed himself a small nasty smirk. "How well, do you reckon, the team will fare without her as Seeker?"

Diggory looked at him disgustedly. "You're bluffing."

"Try us."

For a few seconds they stared at each other, neither willing to budge. Eventually, Diggory gave Harry a small nod and shrugged.

"Just remember, Harry. Due to your unique legal arrangement," Diggory said, the taunting in his tone obvious, "you'll be held personally accountable for anything your _protegé_ does. For your sake, I hope you have him under control."

Severus' fingers dug into Harry's hand. For a brief horrifying second, Harry thought that the provocation was going to be too much for Severus to ignore. But much to Harry's relief, Severus didn't even look in Diggory's direction.

"We probably should get going," Severus said, turning to Harry. "It's not a good idea to upset the Minister further. He seems to be unusually fragile today."

Harry chuckled quietly, and they walked past Diggory hand in hand, making their way to the seating area near the Quidditch Pitch.

Their arrival caused a wave of excitement. The Weasleys, Marietta and Luna, Hanna and Neville were standing up to greet them and guide them to the two seats reserved for them next to Molly and Arthur. Even Percy gave them a quick nod and muttered something almost friendly to Severus. Lily jumped off her grandmother's lap and ran up to Severus, demanding to be picked up. It took Harry a considerable amount of time to coax her to return her to Molly, Severus observing all of it with a wry smile.

Eventually, Harry took his seat between Severus and Hermione, leaned back and smiled. He had already managed to put the confrontation with Diggory out of his mind, and by the looks of it, Severus had as well. The conversation with Ron had done wonders to lift Harry's spirits. Perhaps there were no quick fixes to the Underground problem, after all. Maybe it'd be resolved in due time, not through some revelation or insight, but through persistence and hard work. After all, they'd been at it for the last seven years, and even though progress was slow, it was finally looking like things were beginning to go their way.

Ginny, all flushed with excitement, in bright Quidditch getup, made it into the stands to say a quick hello before the game. Harry grinned at her.

"Ready to play?"

"Uh-huh." Ginny tousled Lily's hair absently. "You came."

"Just like I promised I would."

Ginny gave him a friendly smile. "Where are my flowers?"

"Growing in our garden," Harry said, without missing a beat. "Seemed a shame to cut them down."

"Yeah." Ginny took a deep breath and bit her lip.

"Anxious?"

"Just a bit. Viktor has been training like crazy for the past few months."

"That won't matter," Severus spoke up suddenly. "If statistics of former games are any indication, you still outclass Krum by a fair margin. I suggest that you get out there and catch that Snitch, so we can all go home."

Ginny gave a nervous laugh.

"Well, thanks for that."

She departed, giving Lily a small kiss, and a few minutes later the two teams made it out onto the Quidditch Pitch, hopping onto their brooms to face each other off.

Shortly, the Snitch was released and soared upwards, Ginny and Viktor taking off in pursuit.

Hermione tapped Harry on the shoulder and handed him two pairs of binoculars, one of which he passed on to Severus.

Viktor was playing aggressively, but he seemed to be out of luck – the Snitch veered off from him several times, avoiding capture. Ginny almost made a catch twice, each time missing the Snitch by the smallest of margins, but she seemed to be getting closer with every attempt.

Harry's heart was racing wildly, almost as if he were out there himself. He'd nearly forgotten how much fun it was to watch the game and cheer for the players. He was about to cheer when Ginny made a mad dash for the Snitch once more, when he felt Severus' hand seek out his and squeeze it tightly.

"Something is wrong," Severus said in a barely audible voice.

"What?"

"The Snitch is behaving oddly. Observe its trajectory."

Harry squinted at the tiny golden dot in the sky.

"So, what's the problem?"

"Statistically speaking, the Snitch seems to favour Ginny," Severus said after a short pause.

"Are you saying Ginny is cheating?" Harry asked, mildly affronted by the suggestion.

"No, of course not. But somebody is." Severus set his binoculars aside. "Somebody really wants her to catch that Snitch."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine. Ron had said that the Underground didn't have the manpower to pull off anything _big_ at this time, but perhaps they still had the resources to stage something _small_. Snitch-size small.

"We've got to stop the game," Harry whispered back. "I'll go find Ron..."

"There isn't time. Can you disable the wards between us and the Quidditch Pitch?"

Harry stared at him. "Not a good idea, Severus. First of all, every alarm in the stadium will go off if I do that. And at least, this way, whatever's about to happen out there will be contained in the pitch, and not hurt the spectators." He cast a sideways glance at Lily, who was sitting in Molly's lap, a bright smile on her face.

Severus nodded reluctantly. "Granted. Can you bypass the wards? Create a small gap, a temporary one? Just enough for someone to get out there?"

"I can try." Harry frowned, considering the nearly impossible task posed to him on such short notice.

"Do it," Severus ordered, sounding short on patience.

Harry nodded and pointed his wand at the invisible barrier separating them from the Quidditch Pitch.

His heart was pounding wildly: he knew he was racing against time. Previously he'd managed to do complex charm work at home, recovering and restoring the old wards at Godric's Hollow, as well as rewriting someone's surveillance network, established around his house. However, in all those instances, he had had hours or even days at his disposal, and he had never had to work at disabling the security protocols of his own people. Though having helped design most of those protocols was definitely a bonus, Harry thought ruefully.

Hermione gave him a quizzical look. Harry nodded to her, and she didn't press for immediate explanations, but simply moved forward, so as to shield Harry and his actions from the view of others.

Harry was grateful to her for her instant trust as never before.

He cast a few diagnostic spells to identify the failsafe spell in the ward network. A few minutes later, he was able to isolate it and rewrite it, allowing temporary entry into the Quidditch pitch.

"All right," Harry said eventually, his heart racing. "There's a gap in the wards. It'll last for about a minute or so. But the players are out of spell reach. Now what?"

Saying nothing, Severus rose to his feet. There was but a blur of motion, too fast for human eye to identify as human form, as he flew upwards.

Harry held his breath.

Severus was moving at a seemingly impossible speed, mere seconds later crossing the border between the spectators area and the Quidditch Pitch, heading towards Ginny.

**o-o-O-o-o**

It probably took the Aurors guarding the stadium a good ten seconds to react to Severus' intrusion into the airspace of the Quidditch Pitch. He couldn't make out the words, nor could he tell whether anyone was following him. Even if they were, it made no difference now – broomless flight was faster by a fair margin, and Severus had a head start. He stared ahead, his eyes focusing on Ginny, oblivious to everything other than the Snitch she was chasing.

The golden wings fluttered a few feet away from her. He called out to her, demanding to leave the Snitch alone, but Ginny had already struck out to reach for it. Her fingers barely touched the Snitch – Severus made a desperate lunge himself, grabbing a hold of her, and locking his arms around her.

Ginny screamed as Severus pulled her off the broom and away, turning them around in the air so that they were facing away from the Snitch. He managed to do so just in time; a split second later the Snitch itself exploded, transforming into a giant fiery sphere, burning shards flying off in every direction.

A wave of heat engulfed them, and Severus sensed, rather than felt, several sharp impacts against his back. He tightened his grip on Ginny, and attempted to regain control of the flight. For now, they were both falling at an alarming speed, following the direction of Ginny's broom, plummeting to the ground beneath them.

The pain from the puncture wounds caused by the burning fragments came then. Dark spots danced before his eyes, growing larger, obscuring his vision. Severus bit into his lower lip, forcing himself to remain conscious, guiding the flow of magic to at least slow down the fall, if not to direct the flight. He could feel Ginny's elbows pressing down on his arms, helping him keep his hold on her.

He succeeded, he must have – because they didn't crush into the ground – they tumbled onto it awkwardly. Ginny recovered almost instantly and leapt to her feet, her wand drawn. Severus made an attempt to stand up, but the fresh wave of agony twisting his entire body made it impossible. He remained on the ground, taking short laboured breaths, fighting to remain conscious. From his position he could see the feet of people running towards them.

He heard Harry's voice call out his name and hoped that Harry would be the first to reach them.

**To Be Continued...**


	51. Fragments

**Fragments**

Severus' flight and the explosion of the Snitch caused a wild commotion among the spectators and security forces alike.

Leaving Lily with Molly and Arthur, Harry took advantage of the confusion that had ensued and made a mad dash onto the Quidditch Pitch, with Ron, Hermione, Marietta and Luna following closely. A group of Aurors, headed by Diggory himself, entered the Quidditch Pitch mere moments later. For the next minute or so, everyone was converging on Severus' and Ginny's position: Harry and his friends, Diggory and his men, and even the players of both teams who had descended to the ground following the explosion.

Harry and Marietta were the first to reach Severus. Marietta crouched on the ground next to him and began to cast spells to examine his injuries. Harry wanted nothing better than to follow her suit and reach out for Severus – but he joined Ginny instead, his wand drawn, fully intent on keeping the crowds away.

Ron took control of the situation at once, barking orders for the stadium to be cleared and for all who had had access to the players' area and equipment to be detained for questioning. The players of both teams left the Quidditch Pitch without objections, with only Viktor stopping by to ask Ginny if she was all right and give her a quick parting kiss. A small team of Aurors from Criminal Investigations were already combing the pitch, collecting the Bludgers and Quaffles for examination and searching for the minuscule Snitch fragments.

Diggory, flanked by bodyguards, approached Harry and his group, looking stunned and distraught, as if he still couldn't credit what'd just happened. His eyes fixed on Severus.

"He saved her," Diggory whispered, more to himself than anyone else. Harry nodded curtly, never lowering his wand. He was fully expecting Diggory to say something idiotic, perhaps insinuate that Severus had something to do with the explosion, but to his relief Diggory did no such thing. "I can't believe it," Diggory said mildly, staring at Severus. "Is he going to be all right? You've got to get him to St. Mungo's. I can..."

"You want to help?" Harry interrupted him. "Tell the Aurors to take down the anti-Apparition wards."

Diggory gave a quick nod. "Of course. Look, Harry, I know we've had our differences, but..."

Ron approached them and cut Diggory off.

"Minister, you shouldn't be here. Merlin knows what other booby traps there might be on the field."

"I don't care!" Diggory snapped. "Ron, how could this have happened? Where did we go wrong?"

"I don't know yet," Ron answered, never losing his cool. "But we'll find out, I promise, and if I don't have to worry about your safety, we'll have our answers that much quicker."

Diggory nodded absently.

"You'll get Snape to St. Mungo's?" he asked.

"Of course. Look, just go with your bodyguards. We'll take care of everything, I promise."

Diggory nodded again and finally left the field, his bodyguards surrounding him in a loose semicircle.

With Mareitta's help, although against her loud protests, Severus managed to rise to his feet. He swayed at once and Harry caught him, his hands becoming damp with the blood, soaking Severus' robes. Severus turned his face to meet Harry's eyes.

"Not St. Mungo's," Severus whispered, every word coming out laboured and pained. "Home."

Marietta gave Harry a quizzical look. Harry took a quick second to consider their predicament. Diggory's sudden change of heart aside, Harry still didn't trust St. Mungo's: the Ministry's control over the only hospital in Wizarding London was far too great.

"We should all stick together," Harry decided. "Ginny, you too, stay with us. The moment they take down the anti-Apparition wards, we're going home."

Severus swayed again on his feet but steadied himself almost instantly, leaning on Harry's arm. Marietta shook her head in disapproval but said nothing to dissuade Severus. Neither did Harry: it obviously mattered too much to Severus to leave the Quidditch Pitch still standing on his own two feet.  
"The wards are down," Ron announced shortly. "You can Apparate. I'm staying behind, there's work to be done."

"Join us as soon as you can," Hermione asked. Ron nodded to her, and walked away to join his team. Harry's friends stood close, forming a circle around him and Severus, ready to depart.

"Home," Harry said.

**o-O-O-o**

They arrived at Godric's Hollow together and made their way to the house, Snape supported by Harry and Marietta on either side. As soon as they entered the house, Marietta guided Severus towards the couch and proceeded to remove his robe and shirt. Severus complied without objection; he seemed to be barely aware of what was going on and ready to pass out any moment. Harry winced at the sight of his back: burns and puncture wounds were littering it, blood trickling down in thin rivulets.

Marietta gave Ginny a quick glance.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." Ginny darted a guilty look in Severus' direction. "He took the worst of it. Look, if you don't need me, I'll go to the Burrow, make sure Lily is okay..."

"Go."

For the next few minutes everything seemed to be happening at once: Ginny departing to the Burrow, then Hermione firecalling her place to check in with her parents and Rose, Mareitta talking to Luna, giving instructions. Harry was about to reach for Severus' hand when Marietta snapped at him,

"Give me space, Harry."

"Maybe I can help?"

"You can. Take Granger with you and get out of my way."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but Hermione finished her firecall, rose to her feet and took Harry by the arm, leading him into the kitchen. He complied grudgingly, but not without casting one long glance into the sitting room. He saw Luna depart by Floo only to return a minute later, Marietta's medical kit in her hands.

"They need to be able to focus," Hermione said softly. "We'll just be in their way."

Harry nodded, sitting down at the kitchen table. Hermione paced around aimlessly. Harry shut his eyes, listening to Hermione's footsteps, Marietta's orders to Luna and Luna's quiet responses.

Eventually, Hermione got tired of pacing and sat down at the table across from Harry, reaching for his hand.

"You all right?" she asked.

Harry shook his head.

"We've underestimated the Underground," he whispered. "To pull something like that off...God knows how much of the Auror office they'd infiltrated. And now - if they're going to target our families just to get to Severus..." he thought of Lily and his words caught in his throat. Hermione didn't say anything, just squeezed his hand tighter. "Look," Harry said softly, "if you and Ron need to distance yourselves from all this, I'll understand. "

"No."

"You've got Rose to think of," Harry pointed out ruthlessly. He was trying his hardest not to think of the possibility that Lily could come into the line of fire as well.

"I know that!" Hermione snapped, withdrawing her hand and hugging her body with her arms. "I know," she added more softly. "We'll just have to make sure we're extra careful, all of us, until this is over." She gave him a hesitant smile. "You didn't really think we'd bail on you, did you?"

Harry shook his head, finding himself smiling too, in spite of everything. "No, not for a moment."

"Well, then. I have a serious question for you. What if the Underground organize an assault on your home? Do we have enough manpower to defend ourselves?"

Harry took a long minute to consider it.

"I think so. I mean, there's the Light Brigade, and there's Ron's team he'd handpicked and trained personally. I've contacted some members of the Order, too – they're on standby. Should anything like that happen, the wards will hold long enough for everyone to respond. Although..." Harry paused slightly. When Hermione gave him a quizzical look, he mused, "I just thought of something. It wouldn't hurt to have an ace up my sleeve in case there's trouble. If you know what I mean."

Hermione frowned, confused.

"The Elder Wand," Harry said. "The strongest wand in history. It's still in Dumbledore's tomb. I'm going to get it back."

Hermione gave him a doubtful look.

"It's only an advantage if you haven't been defeated in any serious duel in the last seven years, you realize that, don't you? Are you saying that you're still the Master of the Wand, after all these years?"

Harry nodded, rising to his feet. He wasn't doing any good here, just waiting for Marietta to treat Severus – so he might as well try something useful instead of sitting around aimlessly. And getting their hands on the Elder Wand would give them an unprecedented advantage over the enemy.

Hermione stood up as well.

"Harry! You aren't going there now, are you? Need I remind you that we're all still banned from Hogwarts, and the school is warded? Just how are you planning to get in?"

Harry stopped for a second, waiting for her to catch up to him.

"I've got an idea. You're coming with me, aren't you?"

Hermione gave an irritated shrug at that.

"This is very, very reckless and stupid, what you're about to do. Of course, I'm coming with you."

**o-O-o**

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Severus was barely aware of who was near him, or who was helping him. He'd asked about Harry and Marietta answered something that didn't quite register with him. He only knew that Harry had gone somewhere.

"It'll be all right," Luna's voice said from somewhere. "Marietta is very clever."

"I know," he conceded before allowing himself to fall asleep one more time.

**o-O-o**

Hermione and Harry emerged from the Floo at High Grounds. Harry walked out of the coffee shop with Hermione following him closely, her wand drawn. She saw him heading towards the Shrieking Shack and shook her head dubiously.

"It's heavily warded, too," she felt the need to point out. "Nobody has been able to breach the wards since Voldemort..."

Harry shrugged. "I've got a lucky streak going with wards today. Stop being so negative."

"What if someone sees us?"

Harry patted her shoulder. "We'll say we were paying respects to Dumbledore, that's all."

The Shrieking Shack, dilapidated but no more accessible for the wear, greeted them with eerie silence.

Hermione stood guard while Harry set to work, trying different spells until he found the weakness in the wards, remaining there since Voldemort's time. Once the wards were breached, they Apparated inside the Shack.  
**  
**Harry stopped in his tracks, staring down at the decrepit floor boards, aged wood darkened in some places with the blood that had spilled on it years ago. Standing here, he couldn't help but wonder what things would have been like if Severus had been allowed to claim his rightful place in the Wizarding world right after the war's end. Would the Underground have remained as rampant and unchecked, or would Severus' knowledge have helped curb their activities? How would magical Britain look today, if he hadn't left Severus behind?

He found himself wishing – stupidly and madly – for a way to change just that one thing, if nothing else. He could almost hear the echoes of the conversations that took place seven years ago, himself, promising to come back, Hermione urging him to leave...

Hermione's fingers brushed against his sleeve briefly. The mirage of the past faded as quickly as it had come. Harry sighed and shook his head, snapping out of the morose ruminations. All that remained now was going forward.

He left, heading for the tunnel, Hermione at his side.

**o-O-O-o**

When Severus came round, he wasn't certain how much time had passed. It could have been hours or days – and the flight out to the Quidditch Pitch now seemed a lifetime away.

His entire body ached, but he had the distinct feeling that he was on the mend. He turned to lie on his side and saw Luna, asleep in the armchair by the fireplace, the cat in her lap. Marietta, sitting on the floor next to the couch, hugged her knees, watching him.

"You'll be fine," she said softly, anticipating his question. "I've removed several Snitch fragments that had lodged themselves in your back. You're lucky they didn't hit any vital organs." The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly to form a small smile. "That was completely brilliant, by the way. The way you flew out onto the Quidditch Pitch like that. Not many people can do that."

"No," he agreed softly, allowing himself a brief moment of private self-congratulation, "not many."

"How did you know anything was wrong, anyway?" Marietta asked.

Severus chuckled quietly, finding it oddly amusing that the years of supervising Quidditch matches at Hogwarts, looking for trouble where none was expected, had paid off in such a surprising way.

"The Snitch was charmed to favour Ginny. It seemed as if it were looking for her."

"Huh." Marietta frowned, trying to think of something. "I've heard of that sort of thing, but doesn't that kind of spell require the blood of the target to work?"

"Why, yes." Severus sat up abruptly, pondering the implications. "Who'd have access to that?"

"St. Mungo's keeps blood samples of all members of the Quidditch team. Routine testing for any illegal performance enhancement potions and such..." Marietta shivered and hugged her body with her arms. "The Underground may not be big in numbers anymore, but looks like they have their people everywhere..." She shook her head. "Good thing you insisted on coming home."

Severs snorted under his breath. "Well, I do get a good idea now and then." He pulled a small quilted blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself, before standing up. "Where's Harry?"

"Don't know. He and Granger took off a while ago, didn't say where they were going. You should rest."

He nodded, inclined to agree. He wanted to rest and think – he had a vague but persistent suspicion that he was missing something important in the chain of recent events. All he needed was some time to collect his thoughts and work it out.

"I'll help you upstairs," Marietta said, rising to her feet.

"No. I can manage."

**o-O-o-O-o**

It took Harry and Hermione a good half an hour to reach Dumbledore's tomb. The white marble structure stood above the lake, the perfect double of it reflecting in the clear surface of the water. Harry circled the tomb, examining the wards and, to his surprise, finding that other than the regular Hogwarts protective charms, there were none. Then again, nobody but the select few in the Ministry knew about the Elder Wand and its significance, so perhaps, they didn't think to protect the tomb from intruders.

Harry took a few minutes to rewrite the spells guarding the tomb.

The white marble parted before them, granting entrance. They entered the tomb together, daylight pouring in to illuminate Dumbledore's final resting place – or what was left of it.

"Oh god," Hermione whispered quietly, grasping his hand. "What in the world..."

Harry stared ahead.

Dumbledore's remnants had been reduced to a pile of cinders, with the shape of skull and serpent etched onto the white marble table.

The Elder Wand itself lay on the floor, snapped in twain. Harry picked it up and shoved the broken pieces of the wand into his pocket.

"Harry..." Hermione murmured, staring at him.

Another dead end, Harry thought grimly. Another exercise in futility.

Hermione's hand gripped his.

"Let's get out of here," Harry said.

They left quickly, the white marble entranceway sealing behind them to conceal the desecrated contents of the tomb.

**O-O-O**

It was early morning when Severus woke. Harry was sleeping next to him, his face tucked into Severus' shoulder. Tripod was purring loudly in his ear, from time to time reaching with his paw to touch Severus' hair. For a few long minutes Severus didn't open his eyes, but allowed himself to enjoy the few minutes of tranquility.

Next to Severus, Harry stirred and wrapped his arm around him.

"You're awake, aren't you?" he muttered.

"Yes," Severus said, without opening his eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. All patched up."

Harry pressed closer against him, his hand making its way to his forehead, brushing the hair strands from his eyes.

"Thank you," Harry whispered. "Thank you for saving Ginny. If not for you..."

"If not for me," Severus interrupted sharply, "she wouldn't have been targeted in the first place." Harry twitched noticeably, probably intending to argue, but Severus cut him off. "You and Granger. Where did you go yesterday?"

Harry muttered an obscenity under his breath. Severus reached out to stroke Harry's back and realized that Harry had fallen asleep next to him, still fully dressed. Whatever Harry was doing yesterday must have turned out nerve-wrecking.

Severus finally opened his eyes and sat up in bed, giving Harry a long quizzical look. Harry sat up as well, reaching into his pocket and producing a broken wand that Severus recognized at once.

"Dumbledore's," Severus whispered, reaching out for the wand's fragments. "What happened?"

"After the war was over I'd left the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's tomb. Hermione and I went to retrieve it – but it looks like the Underground beat is to it. They've... burned Dumbledore's remains and left a Dark Mark on the table there."

Severus twisted the broken pieces in his hands, examining them. "The core has been removed."

"Yes, I noticed. I find it surprising, you know. They – the Underground - must have been aware of the significance of the wand – the story about it leaked out into the newspapers shortly after the war. They could have taken the wand and kept it, tried to kill me, so that one of them could become the Master of the wand..." Harry smiled unhappily. "Not that I'm complaining, but I wonder why they didn't do that."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps they were after something even more powerful." Harry frowned at his words and Severus sighed. "Harry, for the past few months we've been trying to figure out how it is that the Underground are recreating the Dark Mark on the new recruits. We've got our answer now. I believe this wand, or rather, its core, still carries Voldemort's magical energy signature."

Harry muttered a heartfelt obscenity. "I should have thought of that! But... why break the wand and remove the core? Why not just use the wand?"

Severus returned the broken pieces of the wand to Harry.

"The entire wand isn't necessary for the task, the core alone, even a fragment of it, will suffice. Perhaps they wanted to split the core between several of the leaders and ensure that more than one of them could mark the followers. There's wisdom in not putting all of one's proverbial eggs into one basket."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry muttered, unable to shake off a growing sense of unease.

For a while they were both quiet. Severus' proposed explanation made sense, but Harry had a feeling that they were still missing something – some piece of the puzzle that was refusing to be found and popped into place.

"You know," Harry mused, "I wonder how the Underground knew _where_ to look for the Elder Wand. Lots of people knew about the wand, but not where it went after the war. Most people assumed that it was in the Ministry, under heavy guard somewhere..." Harry felt silent as the full meaning of his own words caught up with him.

Severus' eyes focused on Harry.

"Diggory knew, didn't he?" he demanded at once, spitting out the words with cold fury that made Harry recoil from him. "It certainly seems rather convenient that Dumbledore's Army was banned from Hogwarts' grounds when your friends began poking around the school. Perhaps the Death Eaters already had the wand at that point and Diggory wanted to keep that fact a secret. I wonder why."

Harry let out a deep sigh. "Diggory did know where the Elder Wand was," he conceded. "And he isn't the one to admit to his failures easily, so if the Underground got their hands on the Elder Wand, he'd want to cover it up. But... he wouldn't be _helping_ the Death Eaters. I'm sure of it. I can't stand him, but... it just... doesn't seem to fit."

Severus' shoulders twitched slightly, but he chose not to argue the point.

Another long silence ensued. Eventually, Severus spoke again.

"Harry, I can't help but ask: why on earth did you leave a Deathly Hallow in Dumbledore's tomb? Why not keep the most powerful wand in the world for yourself?"

Harry shrugged, clearly regretful.

"I was seventeen at the time. Frankly, back then, I thought it was all over. Thought I wouldn't need it again. Who could have known..."

Severus sighed, suppressing the urge to tell him that anybody should have known better than to give up the world's most powerful artefact without a compelling reason: the look of absolute misery on Harry's face stopped him. Strangely enough, frustrated as he was, he didn't want to make Harry feel worse.

"The fuck with the Elder Wand," Severus said finally. "We'll make do without it. We just need to take care of the Underground once and for all."

Harry stared at him.

"Let me guess, you have an idea?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to hate it, huh?"

"Almost certainly."

**To Be Continued... **


	52. Entrapment, Part I

**Entrapment, part 1**

Severus refused to discuss his idea until everyone he had in mind was gathered at Harry's place. "I have no intention of explaining everything twice," Severus said, before stalking off and departing to his study.

It was late morning when Ron, Hermione, Marietta, Luna, Ginny and Neville arrived at Harry's place.

Severus nodded to them to sit down and they did, bringing chairs from the kitchen to form a small circle.

Ron spoke first to give an update on the investigation. A sample of Ginny's blood was missing from St. Mungo's, with no record of who had signed it out. The wand that had been used to charm the Snitch was found as well, and it was unknown who it belonged to. Marietta asked to see the wand and Ron departed, returning with it a few minutes later. Harry stared at the wand as well: short and slender, it seemed vaguely familiar.

"It's one of those, isn't it?" Harry asked softly, remembering the box of discarded and abandoned wands that Marietta had brought from St. Mungo's months ago for Severus to try.

"Yes," Marietta said. Ron gave her a quizzical look and she elaborated, "St. Mungo's Lost and Found has a number of abandoned wands that have never been claimed. This is one of them."

"All roads lead back to St. Mungo's," Ron muttered. "Kind of creepy. Are you sure about this?"

"All right, never mind the mystery wand now," Severus said abruptly, irritably. "What we need to do right now is make a plan of action. So far we've been reacting and defending ourselves from whatever is thrown our way. It's time that changed. We need to go on the offensive." He turned to Ron. "If I'm not mistaken, you're having some trouble tracking the Underground. Can you tell me how a typical raid on one of their compounds is carried out?"

Ron nodded.

"Well, sir, whenever we get a lead on one of the compounds, we act as soon as we're able. First we take down the wards, secure the compound, make arrests. By the time we've delivered the prisoners to a secure holding area, got a Legilimens to work with them – hours go by. Now, in the course of interrogations, we typically get leads on locations of other compounds – but those leads are no good to us at that point – the other Death Eaters already know something went wrong, and relocate." Ron sighed. "You know, my guess is that it's their wards that are the problem. I bet you anything, there's a fail-safe mechanism built into each compound's wards, and it alerts the others whenever one of their locations comes under attack. I'm guessing that as soon as they know that one of their compounds has been compromised, the others don't take any chances – they just pack up shop and relocate."

A small shadow crossed Severus' face. "I believe you're correct, Mr. Weasley. During my captivity, I recall being relocated a number of times. Back then, I didn't know the reason for it, but your explanation makes perfect sense." Severus paused slightly, appearing to be thinking some things over before speaking again. "What if we changed the playing field? What if we had a group of the Death Eaters, the best fighters they've got, gathered in a single location, away from any of their compounds? And what if, instead of taking them to a Ministry holding area, and thus losing valuable time, we dealt with it ourselves? Given sufficient manpower, we could incapacitate them, use Legilimency scans to determine the locations of all the remaining compounds, and attack at once, without any delay, without giving the rest of the Underground a chance to regroup, run and hide?"

Ron frowned, taking a long minute to consider the question.

"Well, we'll have to use invasive Legilimency scans to get the information out of them – it won't be easy. There aren't that many of us who can do that – I mean, really, there's Harry and me and you and a few others... but yes, it can be done." Ron shook his head and gave a rueful smile. "It's not exactly legal, you realize. Vigilante justice is frowned upon, even when it's for a good cause."

"Yes," Severus mused. "Though I suspect that ending the Underground threat once and for all will make apologizing a great deal easier."

Ron grinned from ear to ear. "True," he conceded. "I actually think we've got the manpower do pull this off. There's my unit - that's thirty people, there's the Light Brigade, and some members of the Order who'd be willing to fight..."

"And there are people Viktor knows from Durmstrang," Ginny cut in quickly. "Charlie has some friends in Romania. We can get more help if needed."

"Good, that's good," Ron said approvingly. "Now, the real question is... how do we get a bunch of Death Eaters away from their compounds into a single location where we can close in on them?"

Severus smirked. "We need a bait, don't we?"

Harry, who was listening to the conversation with a growing sense of unease, felt his stomach drop at those words.

"No way," he protested at once. "We aren't using you as bait."

"Have you got a better idea?" Severus challenged him.

"Maybe not right this second, but this is... not right. It's way too risky."

"Actually," Severus said softly, "the risk would be minimal. I will return to my house at Spinner's End. You will set up the wards around my house to hold off the initial assault and inform other members of the Light Brigade as soon as someone attempts to take the wards down. And should something go wrong, I can always use the Floo to return here."

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't like this at all. There are too many variables. What if we can't respond in time? What if the Death Eaters manage to take down your wards before we can get to Spinner's End?"

Hermione nodded in agreement. "You know, that's true. There's no need for something that reckless. We're all safe for the moment..."

"Really?" Severus snapped. "What makes you think that the Underground won't target your daughter next, or try to snatch up your parents from their Muggle home? Make no mistake, if we sit around and do nothing, the Underground will find a way to get me back and kill me. And once I am dead, and they can use the Dark Mark network to communicate with each other without threat of detection, they'll become unstoppable. You'll have another war on your hands, and I'm not at all certain you'll be able to win it easily."

"Okay, you make a good point," Neville cut in, "We need to do something, and do it soon, but I don't like this plan either. You've said it yourself – you're the only one standing between the wizarding world and the Underground's reign of terror. If that's the case, it'd be rather daft to risk losing you."

"He's right," Marietta said quickly.

"Besides," Harry added, "We've already underestimated the Underground once. They may have more people than we realize. We don't even know how many of their compounds are still out there. Fighting a war on too many fronts at once will stretch us thin..."

"And it's completely crazy to do something like that without the entire Auror office backing us up," Ginny said. "Even with all the resources we've got, it's still too risky."

"No, Professor Snape is right," Ron spoke suddenly, causing all heads to turn to him.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized.

"Ron, I can't believe you'd be agreeing to this!" Harry snapped, irritated beyond all measure by Ron's apparent willingness to take chances with Severus' life.

"Look, we all know that a confrontation is coming, one way or another," Ron said. "Now, doing it this way, we choose the location and we choose the time. And if you ask me, it's a hell of a lot better than just waiting for something to happen. This way, we're in control, we're doing everything on our own terms. We'll have the benefit of surprise – we'll hit the Underground fast and hard, they won't have the time to regroup and run. I really think we can pull this off."

Harry shook his head and was about to argue again when Severus found his gaze and held it.

"Harry," Severus said, speaking quietly. "It's a good plan. More to the point, it's the only one we've got. We can do it, I know we can. I'm not willing to have this ongoing threat hang over our heads for the next decade. The time to act is now. Let's make one final effort, fight one final battle and end this now, once and for all."

Harry sighed. He could see Severus' point – in the light of the recent attack on Ginny, the Underground would likely believe that Harry might choose to distance himself and his family from Severus as much as possible. The longer they waited, the less believable the "bait" would be. The plan was risky – but waiting was a risk as well, and a kind that was less likely to pay off.

Severus looked at Harry.

Giving that single nod of agreement seemed like the hardest thing Harry had had to do in his entire life, but he bowed his head, accepting the plan.

"All right," Harry said, pushing his unease aside for the moment. "Ginny, contact Charlie and Viktor. Get them and their friends to come in immediately. Marietta, the battle might get ugly. You need to select and train a number of the Light Brigade members in first aid procedures. Ron, we should go to Spinner's End right away and set up those wards, and make sure they're so tight that not as much as a fly gets in."

Ron stood up and Harry did as well, still not quite believing what they'd just gotten themselves into.

"Professor," Ron spoke, "just in case something does go wrong and you're recaptured... There's a new tracking spell we've developed. Only a handful of us in the Auror Office know about it. It's extremely powerful, but virtually undetectable – it'll likely go unnoticed by anyone, unless they know exactly what to look for. Would it be okay to use it on you, just in case?"

Severus nodded in agreement and Ron cast the tracking charm. Harry's heart clenched at the realization that they were preparing for the possibility of Severus' recapture. Severus himself seemed untroubled by any of it.

"Mister Weasley," Severus spoke again just before Ron left, "would you mind if I kept that unclaimed wand?"

Ron paused in his steps and frowned, seemingly uncertain about relinquishing what was a piece of evidence in a still active investigation. Severus simply waited. Eventually Ron shrugged silently and handed the wand over. Severus received it and examined it, as if to determine how well it worked for him.

"Yes," Severus murmured to no-one in particular. "Yes, that's good."

**o-o-o**

It took a full day for everything to be put into place. Krum and his people, about thirty of them, arrived and camped out around the Burrow, ready for action. Hermione made frantic firecalls, arranging for meetings with former members of the Order, bringing them up to speed on the situation and asking for their support.

In the afternoon Harry and Ron approached Severus with a new idea: Polyjuice a trained Auror from Ron's team to look like Severus and go to Spinner's End instead of him. Severus dismissed the idea instantly and a long argument ensued. How Severus actually won that argument, Harry wasn't entirely certain, but Severus seemed hell-bent on being "the bait" and wouldn't budge on his decision. It seemed an obsession of sorts, for him, to take that risk personally, and there was no way of talking him out of it.

Ron and Harry were discreet while exploring Spinner's End, just in case the Underground were already watching Snape's old house, too. The neighbourhood seemed to be in even worse shape than Harry'd remembered: the few houses next to Severus' appeared abandoned, with "for sale" signs mounted nearby. Harry supposed it was lucky that the action they'd planned wouldn't be noticed by the Muggle population. On the other hand, it meant that Severus would be completely isolated in his home, with the Floo his only connection to the rest of the Light Brigade.

It took Harry and Ron several hours to set up wards that Harry felt confident about. Still, he had a lingering suspicion of missing something – some piece of the puzzle, some important detail that somehow was remaining overlooked.

Ron gave him an encouraging smile, but for some reason, it made Harry only feel worse.

He returned home, miserable and drained, to see Severus packing.

For a while Harry simply sat and watched, gripped with the irrational fear that, should he look away, Severus might disappear somehow.

Severus was going through his books and notebooks, deliberately and unhurriedly, as if he were preparing for a Potions conference. Harry sighed deeply. He could see how much difficulty Severus was having just to move: yesterday's injuries were still not fully healed.

Each time a set of notes or a pad of paper made it into Severus' shoulder bag, Harry's heart clenched with a dreadful sense of loss, as if the very life they had built together in the last eight months was slipping through his fingers, and he had no idea how to hold on to it.

"Stop it," Severus said sharply, without looking at him.

"What? I'm not doing anything."

"You are sighing. You just did it again. It's getting on my nerves."

"I wouldn't be sighing if you had any common sense at all, and..." Harry started saying, but the budding argument was interrupted mid sentence by the Floo coming alive, and Ginny emerging, with Lily holding her hand.

Lily walked to Harry first and he hugged her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She stood still in his embrace, clearly knowing something was up, the adults' anxiety affecting her as well. Lily went to Severus next and tugged on his sleeve.

"I saw you fly out to save mum," she said quietly.

Severus turned around and stared at her, seeming uncertain how to respond.

"I overheard them talking. Are you going away?" Lily demanded.

"Only for a few days."

"You aren't going to be lost again, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Severus said firmly. "I'll never be lost again."

"Why do you need to go away?" Lily continued to quiz him.

"We need to do something very important," Severus said, lowering himself to be on the same eye level with Lily. "We'll be very busy for a couple of days." He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "I'm going to need your help."

"Okay," Lily agreed at once.

Severus walked over to the couch and picked up Tripod, who let out a small disgruntled mewl but didn't resist the unceremonious treatment.

"As I've mentioned, we'll be quite busy. We won't have any time to take care of the cat. Can you feed him and water him for me while I'm gone?"

Lily nodded readily and Severus deposited the cat in her arms. She received the animal solemnly. Tripod didn't seem to mind, just twisted himself in her grip and rested his paws on her shoulders.

"All right, go home with your mother now," Severus said awkwardly, patting Lily's shoulder. "I'll see you soon."

Ginny took Lily's hand but gave Severus and Harry one last worried look.

"Maybe we should reconsider," she offered hesitantly. "There's got to be a more sane way of doing the same thing." Severus shook his head and Ginny sighed tiredly, taking Lily's hand. "All right, well, let's hope for the best. Harry, we'll be ready when you need us."

After Ginny departed, taking Lily with her, Severus stood up and picked up his bag.

"I should be going as well," he said.

"Not yet," Harry whispered, approaching him and putting his hands on Severus' shoulders. "Stay with me one more night. Leave in the morning."

"You won't be any happier about this in the morning," Severus pointed out. "No, it's time."

"Fine. I'll come along. Take another look at your place," Harry said.

For a moment he fully expected another argument, but Severus simply took Harry's hand in his.

"All right," Severus said. "Let's get to it. The sooner we start, the sooner it'll be over."

**To Be Continued...**


	53. Entrapment, Part II

**Entrapment, part 2**

Severus and Harry took the Floo to Spinner's End.

As soon as they arrived, Harry released Severus' hand and went to work, examining the house for any sign of tampering or malicious spells. Severus began to unpack, which wasn't a difficult task, as he had brought very little with him. Some books and notes and a few Pot Noodle snacks – he was hoping his stay at Spinner's End would be brief.

Harry stopped by the kitchen, saw the cups of dehydrated noodles and smiled wistfully, probably remembering them having those while camping in the search for the Resurrection Stone. Severus returned his smile this time, suddenly overcome with nostalgia for the recent past, when life seemed much simpler, somehow.

Things had changed since then. People around them were disappearing, Severus thought ruefully. He'd barely noticed Lucius' passing, but a chill ran down his spine when he remembered Draco's departure. And, even though none of the Light Brigade mentioned the possibility, the mere thought of potential casualties in the upcoming confrontation sickened him.

Severus shoved the pile of notes aside and stood up, walking to the window. It wasn't quite dark yet, but the daylight was beginning to wane. Severus stared at the wet earth covered with fallen leaves and smiled in spite of himself, noticing a small rook hopping on the ground.

"He looks like the one we saw in my yard," Harry said, coming up behind him. Harry's chin rested on Severus shoulder.

"Harry, they're rooks. They all look alike," Severus pointed out.

"No, this one looks just like you. All dark and serious, ruffled up and bristly."

Severus twitched his shoulder, shrugging Harry's chin off. "There's absolutely no need to be insulting."

"I don't think he minds the comparison," Harry teased. Severus turned around to see the saddest of smiles crossing Harry's lips. Severus smiled as well, wanting to do something to reassure Harry and not knowing how to do so.

"I'm going to ask Ron to get his Aurors to camp out in the abandoned houses next to yours," Harry said. "It wouldn't hurt to have some additional surveillance, just in case the..."

"No," Severus said sharply, cutting off Harry before he could finish the sentence.

"Why not?" Harry demanded instantly. "It'd be insane not to take advantage of that!"

"Because," Severus said with dwindling patience, "for all we know, the Underground might be watching the house already. If so, the sound of crowds of Aurors Apparating into the neighbourhood will most certainly tip them off, and the entire enterprise will be pointless. This isn't open for debate, Potter," Severus added sharply, seeing that Harry was about to start objecting again. "Are you done with your inspection?"

"Hm, not quite. Another half an hour or so."

"Fine. Get on with it."

Harry continued with his work. Time seemed to be moving at snail's pace as far as Severus was concerned; he was eager for Harry to leave and the countdown to the final confrontation to begin. But Harry was taking his time, working slowly and thoroughly, as if trying to delay the inevitable.

By the time Harry was done, Severus had already gone to bed. He didn't undress, just stretched out on top of the bed covers and shut his eyes. He doubted he'd get any sleep, but he still intended to rest.

The bed inclined slightly when Harry sat on the edge of it, taking Severus' hand in his.

"So? What's the verdict? No monsters under my bed?" Severus asked with mock seriousness. The teasing seemed to go over Harry's head.

"No. Everything is fine. As long as you remain inside, you'll be safe." Harry squeezed his hand. "I've also reconfigured the Floo to allow only members from the Light Brigade to come in."

"Good." Harry's fingers were rigid in his, and Severus could sense Harry's tension mounting. He himself felt just as anxious, and just barely able to keep his anxiety in check.

"You should go now," Severus said.

"Maybe I should stay with you. Just in case..."

Severus opened his eyes and stared at Harry. "We still don't know how much of the Ministry the Underground have infiltrated. Chances are, they're able to monitor the Floo network. If you remain here and they know it, they'll suspect a trap and back off."

Harry sighed one more time and stretched out to lie on the bed next to Severus. Severus fully expected another argument, but Harry remained quiet, just stroking Severus' face, brushing the hair off his eyes and finally, cupping his chin and closing in for a kiss.

Severus kissed back absently. _Could be the last time:_ the thought crossed his mind briefly, but Severus pushed it away. He knew all too well that the battle with the Underground could easily end in dismal failure – but it didn't make sense to be dwelling on that at the moment.

Not while Harry continued to kiss him, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one, sliding his hands down Severus' chest, touching him, holding him.

This time Severus could swear he felt the actual magic of the bond, a small, unobtrusive tingling radiating from Harry's fingertips where they came in contact with his skin. Pleasure blossomed at the points of contact, radiating outwards, washing over him. All anxiety gone just like that, there was nothing but pure joy, untainted by the uncertainty they were facing.

Harry must have sensed something as well.

"I can feel it," he whispered. "Can you?"

"Yes." There was no point in denying it.

"Do you mind it much?" Harry asked.

Severus shook his head.

He knew that it was the same type of magic that had run through the Dark Marks since long before Harry's time; the magic that compelled, directed and bound one to the other; but this particular manifestation of it felt so different that Severus could barely credit it. But somehow, when it came to Harry, everything was different.

"I don't mind it," he murmured. His eyes still closed, he reached for Harry and grasped his sides, guiding him to sit on top. He felt Harry straddling his hips, leaning forward for another kiss.

He found himself reaching for Harry's trousers to unbutton them, eager for more – more contact, more friction, more – anything. It was just like the first time – innocent, mindless, carefree. Harry's member grew hard in his hand in a matter of seconds.

They clung to each other and thrust against each other, Severus lifting his hips rhythmically, Harry pressing into him with every thrust. The orgasm took him by surprise, and Severus barely felt the drops of Harry's release on his belly before Harry collapsed on top of him and kissed him one more time.

He wouldn't have minded staying like this for a while longer, but Harry shifted and rolled off of him, stretching out by his side. Severus continued to lie with his eyes closed, listening to nothing but the sound of Harry's breathing, and his own.

Harry's hands traced Severus' sides with absentminded gentleness.

The lingering aches from yesterday's injuries faded into nothing under Harry's touch. Severus half suspected that it wasn't just pain relief; it seemed that some sort of healing had taken place – as if Harry's magic had reached deep into his flesh, knitting all the broken and torn parts of him back together, making him more whole and more alive than he ever remembered feeling.

Harry's finger circled a small scar on Severus' side. Severus knew it to be different from the whip marks on his back, but couldn't help but glance down at where Harry's finger rested.

"This one's different," Harry said. "Looks like a stab wound."

"It is." Severus sighed slightly. "That was in the beginning," he explained, feeling oddly detached from what he was saying – as if what he was remembering had little to do with him. "One of my captors kept trying to get me to open my mouth, so he... well, you get the idea. I refused, he didn't insist. He just stabbed me, ejaculated into the wound and left."

For a brief moment, Harry seemed frozen next to him. Severus reached for his shoulder and squeezed it, wondering if he'd said too much.

Harry was still quiet and Severus opened his eyes to study his face. Harry's expression didn't hold any of the usual gentle concern or tenderness. He just gave Severus a quick angry, determined look.

"You were right, you know," Harry said finally. "We can't have this hanging over our heads any longer – these... vultures just circling our home. Let's finish this now."

"Yes," Severus agreed peacefully, relieved no end by Harry's words. "You should leave."

Harry gave him a curt nod and sat up in bed. Severus watched absently as Harry buttoned up his shirt and jumped off the bed.

"Play it safe and stay alive," Harry said. "We'll be here as soon as they attack. Stay inside the house. I mean it."

Harry walked out of the bedroom without saying goodbye or looking back, as if afraid that he might change his mind should he do so. Severus heard him take the Floo and depart home.

When Harry was gone, Severus stood up and got dressed, then walked downstairs.

In the sitting room he paced for a short while before stopping to lean against the wall. He thought he could physically feel the magic of the house wards running in the decrepit structure of the house, an infinitely thin invisible barrier, keeping him safe – for now.

The street was quiet. There was no wind, no beating of the tree branches against the window. It seemed like the world itself was holding its breath in the anticipation of what was about to come.

He wondered how long it would be until things would come into motion. If his guess – the only one he hadn't shared with Harry – was accurate, it'd take less than an hour. Not much time, but more than enough to do one last thing.

Severus walked into the kitchen, sat down at the kitchen table, opened his old Herbology notes and took out his wand.

**To Be Continued**


	54. Subversion

**Subversion**

It felt odd to return to the empty house. Harry couldn't credit how quiet it was without Severus around – no rustling of pages turned, no somnolent breathing, no squeaking of footsteps downstairs – nothing but silence, thick, deafening and oppressive.

For a while, Harry paced the living room, noting tokens of Severus' recent presence here and there, and finding his heart clenched at the sight of each – a book left on the couch, the quilted blanket, neatly folded on the armrest, a mug of unfinished tea.

Several times within a space of a quarter of an hour, Harry found himself heading back to the Floo, fully intent on barging back into Spinner's End, dragging Severus out of there and telling him they needed to come up with another solution. He stopped himself each time, anticipating Severus' indignation at such a turn of events.

When the Floo activated, it sounded shockingly loud in the otherwise silent house. Harry spun around, for a brief second hoping that it was Severus, changing his mind and returning home. When he saw Marietta emerging from the hearth, he couldn't hold back a disappointed grunt.

"Try not to overwhelm me with enthusiasm here," Marietta grumbled.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to, I just thought..."

She stared at him and smiled understandingly; there was no need to explain.

"I thought I'd come and wait with you," she said. "Do you mind?"

"I don't mind," Harry said tiredly, continuing to pace the living room. Marietta watched him. "I just... look, I can't help but feel like something is wrong. Something is wrong about this entire plan; I mean, it _sounds_ logical and workable, but I know we're missing something, I just don't know what it is."

"All right, let's go over it step by step," Marietta said reasonably. "Are the wards on his house at Spinner's End secure?"

"Yes, very. Nobody would be able to force their way in easily. They will hold... well, for a long time."

"Okay. The alert system?"

"Will activate immediately, should someone attack. I set it up myself."

"How long will it take all of us to respond to the attack?"

"Not long. Minutes."

"Will Snape take any unnecessary risks?" Marietta asked.

Harry paused in his steps. "I hope not."

Marietta inclined her head.

"Then we've done all we can for now. All that's left is waiting. You should get some sleep."

"I doubt I'll be able to sleep."

"Then you should lie down and rest, because pacing the living room until morning isn't going to do you any good," she said calmly. "You will need a clear head when it's time to respond."

Harry couldn't argue with that. He went upstairs, leaving the couch in the sitting room to Marietta.

Once in his bedroom, Harry collapsed on the bed, resolving to rest, if not sleep.

Still, before sleep came, he wanted to take just a minute to think about everything that had happened lately and maybe, just maybe, locate that smallest piece of the puzzle he'd missed in the mad rush of the last days' events. Something that had to do with Ginny... the Snitch... the Underground.

Harry took a deep breath, let it out slowly and shut his eyes.

**o-o-o**

When the firecall came in, Severus walked to the Floo at once to receive it. Quite predictably, it was Diggory's face staring at him through the flickering flames.

"We need to talk," Diggory said briskly.

"Go ahead then."

"Not like this," the instant objection came. "I need to speak to you face to face."

Severus stared into the Floo, studying Diggory's face the best he could. "Really," he mused finally. "Why?"

Diggory paused for a bit. It appeared that the next words came to him with difficulty. "It's very important. In the light of... recent events I need your help," he said with obvious reluctance. "Will you let me come over?"

Severus couldn't help but feel the tiniest measure of respect for the man's candor; it was clear that this admission didn't come to Diggory easily. More to the point, Severus didn't feel like playing the games of evasion. He wanted to talk to Diggory just as much as Diggory wanted to talk to him.

"Very well," Severus said. "The Floo is blocked to you. You will have to Apparate to my doorstep. I will instruct the house wards to admit you. Come alone."

The conversation ended. A few minutes Severus heard the knock on the door and went to answer it, his wand drawn. Diggory entered the house alone. Seeming untroubled by the wand pointed at him, he made his way inside and sat down at the kitchen table without invitation.

For the longest time Diggory simply stared at Severus, as if uncertain where to begin.

"You don't seem surprised by my visit," Diggory observed finally. "Why is that?"

"You've wanted to talk to me for a while now," Severus replied. "In fact, you've been trying to get to me since the day I was found, but each time Potter frustrated your efforts. I was certain that you monitor Potter's house, as well as mine, and the Floo network, too. It' be shocking if you didn't take this opportunity to speak face to face."

"Well, thank you for seeing me." Diggory's lips quirked slightly. "Frankly, given everything that has passed between us, I'm surprised that you didn't set more conditions on our meeting. I'd have thought you'd at least request for me to leave my wand behind."

"Why?" Severus smirked. "If you were to attack me, we both know how that would end – with you disarmed and back on my doorstep."

Diggory inclined his head and allowed his gaze to rest on the wand in Severus' hands.

"Your duelling skills were rumoured to be extraordinary at one point," he said. "Though I imagine your reflexes have dulled over the last seven years."

"Would you care to to test that theory?" Severus asked testily, marveling at how quickly Diggory was beginning to get on his nerves.

Diggory waved him off. "No, I suppose that slow reflexes or not, you'll still wipe the floor with me. I'm a bureaucrat, not a soldier. More to the point, I am not the one you need to be concerned about. The real question is, will you be able to hold your own against your former colleagues – all at once?"

Severus didn't answer that. He knew he would fight tooth and nail against being recaptured, yet he couldn't help but wonder if his best would be enough.

"Or," Diggory continued mildly, "are you hoping that once the Death Eaters attack, your former students will rush to your rescue? I imagine they will. They seem to be very protective of you." Diggory paused and eyed Severus in a thoughtful way, as if trying to gauge the reaction those words had on him. Severus kept his expression neutral, even though Diggory had managed to hit a nerve with his observation. "Though you seem to be equally protective of them," Diggory added with an unhappy smile. "The other day – you risked your life to save Mrs. Potter. That was... well. Let's just say, I hadn't expected that."

Severus inclined his head to acknowledge Diggory's words.

"That's why I find your current actions surprising," Diggory continued. "That you'd be willing to let your former students come into the line of fire on your behalf."

"They wouldn't need to if the Auror Office was doing their job," Severus pointed out. "Why don't you back us up, should the Underground attack?"

"Let's say we will. And then what? Capture a handful of them, interrogate them, embark on a wild goose chase, searching for other compounds?" Diggory shook his head. "Those methods proved to be ineffective over the past seven years."

"I don't see you offering any alternatives," Severus said.

Diggory let out a long sigh.

"That's why I am here." He gave Severus a long, thoughtful look. "You really want to end this, don't you?"

"Yes," Severus whispered.

"Then let me tell you this. I have a solution to the Underground problem. A solution that will involve only you – and nobody else."

Severus felt a twinge of excitement at those words, the excitement of a man about to gamble his life's fortune on one last spin of the roulette wheel.

"Tell me more."

"No. Not here. But if you come with me, I will explain everything, and we'll put an end to this. Take down the Undeground, without having the young ones fight our battles. It should never have been their fight in the first place." Diggory was speaking with the passion of the man who believed his own words, and was eager to be believed. Severus smiled absentmindedly. He'd often wondered how someone like Diggory could have come to power, and now he understood. It wasn't just that Diggory could say all the right things, or knew what buttons to push – he really believed in his own cause; and that naïve, nearly childish faith was something that could resonate with people.

"You're certain it will work?" Severus asked.

"Yes." Diggory gave him a wary glance. "Will you come with me?"

Severus nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I won't survive this, will I?" he checked.

"No," Diggory said with ruthless candor. "You won't. But what is the alternative? Waiting here, in this run-down Muggle neighborhood, for your former students – most of them with no combat training whatsoever – to come to your aid and protect you from the Underground? A confrontation like that will not be just messy – it will be bloody. There will be deaths. And at the end of the day you can't be certain that you won't be recaptured and killed anyway."

Severus let out a deep sigh. Diggory was right about one thing – even with Weasley's unit being involved, the confrontation could end up being a disaster. Then again, he had never intended for things to go that far. He had expected Diggory to show up and offer an alternative, and Diggory had not disappointed him.

"I want to know what your plan is," Severus insisted.

"I will explain everything to you once we get there," Diggory assured him again. "But I will not risk revealing my plan unless I am one hundred percent certain we will not be overheard."

"Very well." Severus rose to his feet and Diggory followed his suit.

"Leave your wand behind. You won't be needing it."

"All right." He allowed the wand to rest on the kitchen table and headed towards the doors.

Together, they stepped outside into the cold of the night. Severus looked around the neighborhood; all was quiet. The abandoned houses stood silent with their windows boarded up; the houses next to them had their lights out. The Muggle neighbours had all gone to bed. Privately, Severus envied them – people who were able to live their own lives, blissfully oblivious of the wars and battles being waged at their doorstep.

Diggory motioned for Severus to wait. Several Aurors approached them with their wands drawn.

"No need," Diggory assured them. "Mr. Snape is coming with us of his own free will." He turned to Severus. "We're going to scan you for tracking spells."

"Go ahead." In for a penny, in for a pound; there seemed to be little point protesting this.

One of the Aurors flicked his wand and cast the spell. It took him a few seconds to absorb the results.

"He's being tracked. The new tracking charm. Must be Weasley's doing."

Diggory gave Severus a cold stare.

"You didn't mention that."

"Frankly, I forgot all about it. Feel free to remove it."

"Thank you." Diggory nodded to the Auror, and the faint tingling informed Severus that the charm Ron Weasley had placed on him hours ago was now gone. He was on his own now, but there was no fear, only delirious excitement that everything was to become known – soon.

"Done." Diggory's fingers closed around Severus' wrist.

"Where are we going?" Severus asked. No answer was given, and the familiar sensation of Apparition came a moment later.

**o-o-o**

Harry woke up with a start – he hadn't noticed drifting off.

The house was quiet. Somewhere downstairs, Marietta was sound asleep. It was a calm before the storm, Harry knew that, and the horrible 'something wrong' feeling gripped him and didn't let go.

He shuffled downstairs, wand in hand, and came up to the couch, waking up Marietta with one gentle shake to her shoulder.

She sat up on the couch, rubbing her eyes.

"Did it begin?" she asked at once.

"No. I... I need to talk," Harry said. "Just to think out loud. Snape had us all so riled up that none of us actually stopped to _really_ think about what exactly did happen on that Quidditch Pitch."

They sat on the couch facing each other. Marietta shook her head, banishing the remnants of sleep, in an attempt to focus.

"Tell me," Harry spoke cautiously, careful not to lose the train of thought that he'd barely managed to piece together, "why would the Underground target Ginny, of all people?"

"Well," Marietta mused, "I thought we had this worked out. They wanted to get you to... distance yourself from Snape... so that they could get to him..."

"Yes, but that's a rather convoluted way of going about it, don't you think? If they had the resources to set up an explosion in a secure area, why bother with the Snitch? Why not target Severus directly? They could have killed him just as easily."

"Maybe they wanted him alive?" Marietta hazarded a guess.

"But they don't," Harry pointed out. "They need him dead, and as soon as possible. Someone else though has been trying to get to Snape and get him alive for months."

"Diggory," Mareitta whispered and shivered. "Yes, I guess that makes sense, in a horrible way. It's just something they would do, too. The Ministry of Magic. Use your own family to get to you." She gave Harry a troubled glance. "All right. What do we do now? I mean... our plan could still work. Although if the Ministry intervene and try to snatch up Snape while we're trying to catch up to the Underground – well, things could get really messy. We might end up fighting a war on two fronts, and I don't know if we can win against the Ministry..."

"I don't like this," Harry said, rising to his feet. "We need to call the entire thing off. You go get Ron and Hermione, I'll go to Spinner's End. Met me there, all right?"

"Okay," Marietta agreed quickly.

Harry went to the Floo first and a moment later emerged in Severus' home. The living room was dark, but the light was still on in the kitchen. Harry rushed there, to find the kitchen empty. His stomach sdropped at the sight of Severus' wand, resting on the edge of the kitchen table.

At the top of his lungs, Harry called out to Severus, then sped upstairs, bursting first into the bedroom, then into the small laboratory, checking everywhere he could think of. Empty, all empty.

He shouted again, calling for Severus one last time. Silence answered him once more.

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
